Buried Treasure and Transmogrify
by Rienna Hawkes
Summary: Lily Evans has spent years despising James Potter. He has spent just as long worshiping her. When seventh year pairs them Head Boy and Girl, each comes to realize that their judgment isn't quite what they thought it was. This is the same story found over on the Checkmated archive, but I intend to complete it here. Warning: this story is a strong M rating.
1. The Chocolate Frog Exchange

**01**

**The Chocolate Frog Exchange**

The Hogwarts Express barreled along its track, the people inside swaying ever so slightly with the motion. The compartments were full of raucous students on their way to school, for now without parent or teacher supervision. Lily Evans was weaving at top speed through the flailing bodies, trying to reach the front of the train. As the newly appointed Head Girl, she had to address the prefects. Unfortunately, she had woken up extremely late and had only just arrived to the platform before the train began to move. After searching for the compartment housing her friends and stowing her luggage, she had begun her journey to the meeting she was supposed to lead with her new partner.

Her arms were full. Starving as she was from having skipped breakfast in the rush to King's Cross, she had gone a bit mad at the sight of the trolley loaded with sweets. She would have loved nothing more than to settle on the carpet and eat her nine Licorice Wands, four Chocolate Frogs, three Pumpkin Pasties, and package of Cauldron Cakes (she figured anything she didn't pack away now could be stashed beside her bed for late-night snacking). But there wasn't time for that, or even time to dump them with her belongings and friends in their compartment.

Darting past a group of second years playing Exploding Snap, she winged her knee on the corner of a doorway.

"Oww, aah, blo—" she remembered the children just in time to stop herself, and opened her eyes to see them staring at her. _Head Girl, Lily, you're Head Girl._ "—blast," she finished lamely.

One of the boys looked as though he was going to laugh at her, perhaps even correct her profanity, and Lily took off. The last thing she needed this morning was to be mocked by a twelve year old, and if he did curse, she would have to mete out punishment. She didn't have time for that.

She hoped whomever the new Head Boy was he'd gotten the meeting underway without her. It was probably that Hufflepuff creep Rory Pye; she'd heard something about he being the top contender. _That_ would make for a miserable year. She wasn't overly fond of Pye. Somewhere between his incessant brown-nosing and his dumping of her friend Pilar, he'd put her off.

She was approaching the compartment now, relief sweeping through her. It had been a long morning, and she was more than ready for it to end. She supposed Pye wouldn't be _too_ horrible. Balancing her armload carefully, she opened the compartment door.

Leaning against the far window, two rows of prefects seated in benches on either side of him, was James Potter. A polished Head Boy badge gleamed from where it was pinned to his robes.

_Sweet Merlin…. No—just…no._

He was speaking to a group of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff prefects, but looked up when she walked in. His eyes went a little wide and then settled, a smile splitting his face.

Lily swallowed her discomfort, aware that it wasn't just Potter staring but the whole compartment. Not only was she a good ten minutes late and holding a Galleon worth of sweets, but she was also the only one there to have not yet changed into her robes.

Potter was advancing on her. "Excellent, Evans. That's Head Girl thinking—bringing refreshments." With that, he snatched up a Chocolate Frog and ripped open the package.

Lily made a grab for her stolen sweet, losing her grip on the other items in her arms. She quickly changed purposes, trying desperately to keep her meal from falling. Unfortunately, all that glossy wrapping worked against her and, in the span of a moment, it lay at her feet. A Licorice Wand caught awkwardly between two fingers was her only save.

She spared a moment to blink at the pile, then glared up at the cause.

Potter had bitten the head off his Chocolate Frog. "What?" he asked, his mouth a little full.

"That wasn't for you."

"It wasn't?"

"No, you great prat, it wasn't."

He swallowed the bite down. "Was there someone specifically you had in mind?"

Lily opened her mouth, fit to snarl that this was her breakfast. But she abruptly realized how much she'd bought while shopping hungry. She suddenly felt shy at the idea of admitting to all these people that she'd intended to eat it all on her own and in front of them.

Her body sagged. "Never mind. As long as everyone gets something, it doesn't matter." She collapsed into an empty seat on the bench to her left as students from both sides got up to claim their treat. She raked her hands through her hair and sighed. Looking up, she froze.

Across from her sat Severus Snape, moving in and out of her line of sight as people shuffled in front of her while grabbing and squabbling for their favorite sweet. A copy of _An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms_ was occupying his full attention as he sat placidly unfazed and disinterested by the chaos in the car. It was silly that she should be startled to see him—she had known he would be at this meeting, but there was something about Severus that seemed to jump out at her even when she was looking directly at him.

"You're bleeding," she registered a voice saying.

She pulled her eyes from Severus to see Remus Lupin gesturing to her right knee, which was indeed bleeding.

"Oh." She sat forward, examining her small injury. Funny that she hadn't noticed the small pulsing sting or the sticky wet trickle down her leg.

He looked at it with her, frowning thoughtfully. "Nothing a little Meliorative Charm won't take care of."

"I know that charm!" Lily recognized Potter's gratingly eager voice.

"Thank you, Remus," she said pointedly.

As Remus cast the spell, she looked up, catching Severus staring at her now. Her breath hitched, but he didn't spare her another moment, not meeting eyes with her and returning immediately to his book.

Her nerves took a second hit, jumping beneath her skin when Potter sat next to her.

"I hope you don't mind, but I already gave out assignments and arranged the next meeting."

Lily raised her eyebrows, skeptical. He'd been _responsible_? Somehow she doubted it. "Were the assignments fair?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean will I find that the Slytherins have double shifts on Friday night?"

He was taken aback, but only for a brief second. Then he grinned. "Perhaps, but only until the next patrols are assigned. Then you can give them all cushy early evening rounds."

"Why James Potter, that sounds a lot like you dumping the entire patrol rounds schedule in my lap."

"Isn't that what you did to me this morning?"

"What I did this morning was sleep past my alarm and have my breakfast stolen," Lily said coldly.

His eyes widened in alarm and irascibility. "Who stole your breakfast?" For all the world, he sounded like he might go charging after the offender. The irony of it made her laugh.

"You did."

"I did?"

She looked meaningfully at the scattered pile of sweets on the floor.

His face displayed different stages of comprehension plainly. Lily enjoyed the discomfiture and shame—until they melted into a taunting smile. "You were going to eat all that yourself?"

Lily knew enough about herself to realize she'd bought as much as she had only in a fit of impulsive hunger. She would have eaten _maybe_ half of it before finding herself too full to take another bite. But, for some reason, it seemed unacceptable to show Potter any sign that she was less than certain or controlled in any aspect of her life.

"Yes, and now I have a Licorice Wand—" she held up the wrapped stick of sugar in her hand, "and—" she craned her neck down at the floor where a few stray sweets had been dumped, "a Pumpkin Pasty, another Licorice Wand, and, oh look, a half eaten Chocolate Frog—the part of my breakfast I was most looking forward to."

Potter was laughing at her. "Why didn't you say something?"

"Because I realized how rude it would be to eat in front of everyone."

"Silly Evans, they're just prefects."

He smiled in a way that made time seem to hiccup, and it abruptly dawned on Lily that the conversation had taken a turn she didn't like. He was too comfortable: his hand frequently tousling his untidy hair in gesture he seemed to think was flirtatious, and his arm was creeping behind her on the crest of her seat. She wasn't as annoyed as she should be, as she had been moments ago, her tone having lost much of its bite. And, she saw as she looked around, that save for a group of three prefects who hadn't wandered off with the presumption that they had been dismissed in the opposite corner of the train compartment, the two of them were very much alone.

There was a clenching in her belly at that thought. Her pulse raced as she saw he was looking, in that surreptitiously-obvious way boys had, at her chest. Color rose on Lily's throat.

Quickly and without warning, she stood up to leave. "Well, that was a fine meeting. Thank you for taking care of the agenda."

Stooping, she picked up the Pumpkin Pasty and the Licorice Wand from the carpet. Then, with a barely visible wave, she bolted from the compartment so quickly she was lucky not to have injured herself a second time.

* * *

Severus Snape pushed through the crowded train with little patience or consideration. His teeth were gritting dangerously. Dumbledore had made that ingrate, that degenerate ingot-brain, Head Boy. The bastard hadn't even served as prefect. The injustice of it had his lips curling into a snarl that caused many a lowerclassman to leap out of his way.

Behind him he could hear the two fifth-year Slytherin prefects, Regulus Black and Jillian Pucey, following in his cleared path. That didn't bother him, but his spine stiffened as Jillian's words pierced his haze of rage.

"…Mudblood twat bringing sweets to her first meeting—trying to weasel her way into the good graces of decent stock, no doubt. As though we'd touch anything her filthy hands grimed over. Merlin, she's revolting."

Severus fought the urge to whirl about and whap the girl across the face with his heavy book. Jill was trouble, but more than that, she was irritating. Severus had often fantasized about spiking her morning pumpkin juice with something interesting, like a Tooth Dissolving Draught.

Reaching his compartment, he opened the door with more force than was necessary. As he entered, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning his head he snapped, "Yes?"

Regulus had a hesitant but eager smile on his face. "I'm going with Jill to—ah—you know."

Yes, Severus did know, and he was appreciative they were taking their snog-fest elsewhere. Regulus seemed to be waiting for his permission to leave, which only served to provoke Severus further. With antipathy, he slammed the door shut behind him, leaving Regulus nonplused on the other side of the glass. Evan Rosier and Rabastan Lestrange looked up from their respective distractions as he entered.

"Your time of the month, is it Snape?" Lestrange drawled dispassionately, going back to drawing on his arm with blue ink in boredom.

"Potter," he gnashed, "is Head Boy."

Lestrange's eyes flashed up again, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "Perverse."

"Does it matter?" Rosier posed from behind his comic book. "You didn't actually want the position did you?"

Severus would never admit to these apes his brand of hair pomade, much less the fact that he had indeed been hoping to be chosen to fill the highest-ranking office held by a student. "Of course not…but I'm going to have to take orders from that boorish nit for an entire year."

Rosier shrugged, not caring, and continued with his reading.

"Still no reason to snap at the little one," Lestrange said.

'Little one' was a pet name for Regulus, which had been coined by his cousin Bellatrix. No one was sure precisely what she'd meant by it, but it had stuck. Severus never used it.

Lestrange's lips twisted with his own humor. "If you make him cry, he may not share his allowance with you."

Severus opened his book, refusing to rise at either of the two digs in that last comment. The crack about his poverty was an old one, his association with the youngest Black, however, was fairly recent. He had taken Regulus under his wing, much to the consternation of the other two young men in the compartment, and they liked to prod and push him about it. In truth, Severus rather regularly had no idea where Regulus was or what he was doing. He might pay more attention to his charge if he actually cared, of course. As it was, he was keeping an eye on the younger boy under his new master's orders. That it annoyed Sirius Black was just an added incentive.

He tried to focus on his book, but his arm was throbbing insistently. The pain was an inexorable reminder of the newly branded Dark Mark lurking beneath a tight bandage under his left sleeve. Lucius Malfoy had assured him that after a week the soreness would fade and the Mark with it. After that, it would only glow black and sting when the Dark Lord called. This was necessary for Death Eaters to maintain secrecy in public situations, though Lucius had warned Severus that at times when the Dark Lord felt particularly strong surges of growing power the Mark would show up, and one had to be on guard for it. His initiation had taken place less than thirty-six hours ago and he was not looking forward to the ensuing week. He had some painkiller he'd brewed in his bag, but he refused to drink it in front of Lestrange and Rosier.

Frustration spiked in his throat and he felt a short-lived, but certainly violent, urge to slam his book shut and hurl it against the compartment wall. This was foolish, the most unforgivably idiotic thing he'd ever done. He may be relatively safe within the confines of Hogwarts walls, but there was a war going on outside, waiting for him. And he'd gone and signed himself up to battle on the front lines. No cause was worth that, he told himself. And yet…he'd done it.

And now—and now, on top of all that, Potter had been named Head Boy. Dumbledore couldn't simply be an icon of the crossfire amid which Severus stood, he had to promote that profane glowworm as well. Quidditch god and pseudo-hero amongst his clan of half-wits was no longer enough, Potter had to tread on toes for the position Severus had worked toward for six years. Undeserved, unfair didn't begin to convey it.

And then there was Lily. The way she had looked at Potter…the way she had flushed and flirted as though she were flattered, as though she were interested. Of course, Severus allowed, he could be delusional. That was what Lily had always insisted when he had previously voiced the niggling feeling that there was something between her and Potter. Perhaps she was telling the truth, and Severus was simply so paranoid and fixated on his worst fear that he created evidence where there was none. But over the years the feeling had only grown more distinct and more frequent. She _giggled_ when Potter bantered with her for Merlin's sake.

There was little Severus could do about it even if it were true. Lily had put him from her one long year and three months ago, and he had never quite been able to wheedle his way back into her good graces. Sometimes, like at the meeting, he would sense her gazing at him with such longing that it warmed him. She missed him, he knew that, but it never led to reconciliation. He sent her notes and she would meet him for potion brewing sessions when it suited her or when Slughorn required it. He gave her presents and went out of his way to do kind things for those she cared about—even for Petunia. None of it made the slightest dent in her resolve. It was shameful and demeaning, but he could not seem to stop.

He wasn't sentimental cretin enough to imagine himself in love, but there was no denying that in her presence, his stresses and frenzies would quit their screaming and he could hear himself think again. This would make her company valuable about now.

Severus inwardly sneered at his game. He knew what he was doing—rationalizing. True, it was imperative he regain control of his emotions. If he could not, his Occlumency would become unreliable and he'd surely find himself caught. But he didn't need her to accomplish that. She would speed the process, facilitate it, but was hardly necessary to it. She also carried risk with her, pointless risk. Lily had no notion of the Mark he'd taken, and he no intention of showing her. She would never forgive him, something he'd known even before taking his vows. That thought fostered desperation to reel her back in before she was out of reach, but he also knew it was too late for that. His initiation, his branding marked the finalization of a choice of something else over her—a choice he could not recant.

Still, he hadn't expected the thunderclap of yearning that would shake him at the first sight of her in weeks. A little of her company went a long way and he needed only to regain his feet.

He tore a corner from the scrap parchment he used for study notes, and scribbled a message with his quill before crumpling and depositing it in his cloak pocket.

Yes, Severus knew he was still rationalizing—lying to himself even. Pity it didn't make much difference.

* * *

Lily's skin had only just returned to its natural color when she reached the compartment holding her friends. In a nervous rush, she'd eaten both Licorice Wands and the Pumpkin Pasty on her way there.

Pilar Garza occupied an entire side of the compartment, lying down on the seat reading a magazine. Melody McGonagall sat by the window, upon which she'd been breathing and drawing pictures in the fog with her fingers.

"Well," Lily announced, "Dumbledore's obviously been hitting the absinthe."

"You're sure this time?" Melody asked, nudging Pilar's feet out of the way so that she could put up her own.

"Absolutely." She took a deep breath. "Potter is Head Boy."

Pilar set down her magazine. "Really?"

"Either that or he stole the badge."

Pilar opened her mouth to speak, paused, and then seemed to consider the scenario. "That _would_ be quite the lark, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, would you two stop," Melody said impatiently. "He's not as bad as all that."

Lily sat heavily, rubbing her eyes. "He's not as good, either. We are talking Head Boy."

Pilar sat up, pulling some Drooble's from her bag while she looked at Melody incisively. "And you don't have room to lecture, bearing in mind the fight you picked with Maggie Bagnold earlier."

Melody spread her palms. "I can't help it. There's something in that bitch's voice that's like a dog whistle, and I'm only one who can hear it. Every time she opens her mouth I want to break something. I can't figure what Black sees in her. How anyone could stand to be around her for more than a few minutes is beyond me."

"I expect it's different when she's giving you head whenever you want it," Pilar said, something in the lift of her brow saying the answer had been obvious.

Lily couldn't help but take a different position altogether. "I'd be more inclined to ask what she sees in Black."

"Great looks, charm," Pilar said disinterestedly. "Money."

"Isn't he disinherited now?" Melody asked.

"He's still a Black," Pilar said, "and even poor Blacks aren't poor."

"Why are we talking about this?" Lily reclined and closing her eyes.

"I was proving a point," Pilar replied. "_I_ don't mind Maggie."

Melody made a rude noise.

Lily was becoming frustrated. "Can we focus, please? _Potter_ is Head Boy. How the hell did that happen? He's terrorized more first years than anyone in school."

"And we're not considering his exemplary behavior last year as an explanation?" Melody handled the change of topic easily.

"Most Head Boys need six years of exemplary behavior to get that badge. What makes Potter so goddamn special?"

"His hair, obviously."

Ignoring Melody, Pilar asked, "You don't think money had anything to do with it, do you?"

Lily lifted her shoulders in a shadow of a shrug, still not opening her eyes. "The thought has crossed my mind. It wouldn't be the first time his daddy pulled some strings."

Melody snorted. "Of course, because Dumbledore is the sort of man who accepts bribes." She folded her arms crossly. "You're just miffed because Potter got it instead of Snape."

The effect that this statement had on Lily was fierce and instantaneous. She sat up, her eyes flashing. "That is not true."

"If you insist," Melody goaded. "But don't deny that you wouldn't rather be working with him all year than with Potter."

Lily sighed. "I concede." She swallowed, a hollow feeling in her stomach. "Can we not talk about him now?" she pleaded. "Or ever again?"

"Of course," Pilar said gently, shooting a look of warning at Melody.

"I'm going to change into my robes," Lily announced, rising. Thinking of Severus always made her feel like she'd been kicked in the chest.

When she returned, she was relieved to see that her friends had taken her hints and were no longer bringing up either Potter or Severus. The rest of the journey passed pleasantly and uneventfully. They emptied the train and climbed the rise to the lantern-lit road.

Lily had never much cared for the thestral drawn carriages. Perhaps it was just the Muggle in her showing, but it bothered her that she couldn't see what was pulling her along. She climbed into one with Melody, Pilar, and Hestia Jones.

A few carriages ahead, she saw the back of Black's head as he settled in with his on-again, off-again squeeze, Maggie Bagnold. Across from them, James Potter was climbing up, pulling his girlfriend behind him. He had been seeing her for almost a year now, and it still struck Lily as odd. Alida Ackerley was a timid creature—timid and bland. She had pale eyes with white-blonde hair, a petite figure, and porcelain skin. All in all, a wash and between her demeanor and her shyness, she blended into the background.

The carriages had started to move before it occurred to Lily that she was staring, and _not _at the girl. Her eyes had wandered to Potter, and he was now staring straight back at her. She looked away quickly, blood rising in her cheeks. She'd already made enough of a fool of herself today where he was concerned. Launching herself into conversation with the other girls around her, she chatted determinedly all the way up to the castle.

Dismounting the carriage upon arrival, she stumbled, almost falling. An arm reached out to catch her before she could lose her balance. She steadied herself, and then looked up to see Severus Snape holding her elbow.

"Thank you," Lily said softly as he quickly disentangled himself.

"Not at all," he dismissed coldly, scarcely sparing her a glance as he moved on.

Lily stared after him, not quite able to quash her hurt feelings. She shook herself and squared her shoulders, heading first for the Great Hall, then for the Gryffindor table. Seating herself on one side of Pilar, she was only half-listening to what her friends were on about.

When the Sorting began, she watched with the same disinterest. She was fighting the temptation to sneak a glance at the Slytherin table when she felt something heavy and warm sidle up beside her. She froze, still facing the staff table and Flume, Damon, who had just become a Ravenclaw.

"Evans." She felt his breath on the back of her ear, and the heat of it shot down her body. _Damn it all. _

"What?" she whispered crossly out of the corner of her mouth, not turning to look at him.

"I got you something."

From behind her, Potter slid a package along the table, past her elbow and into her line of sight. It was a Chocolate Frog. He leaned forward, dangerously close to her neck, and said, "Enjoy your breakfast."

She didn't know if it was the tickle of his breathing or the timbre of his voice that made her shiver. Lily could swear she felt his face lightly brush against her hair before he returned to his own seat. When she was certain he was gone, she released the uneven breath she'd been holding. Her eyes didn't waver from the Sorting as she tried to pretend she was thinking about anything but what she was thinking about: the Chocolate Frog next to her hand and the boy who had given it to her. Her skin tingled and pricked just from being near it.

Staring ahead of her, desperately trying to get her mind to catch upon anything else, she saw Melody and Pilar whispering to each other. But they weren't glancing her way, so she knew they hadn't noticed Potter's little visit. Once the feast started and they saw the Chocolate Frog, however, the questions would start. Deciding to scratch two itches in one go, she seized the sweet off the table and crammed it into her pocket. As her hand reached inside she was surprised to feel a scrap of parchment tickling her fingers.

Her hand hung suspended in her robes a moment. Glancing about to see if anyone was looking, Lily furtively pulled the slip from her pocket and read it beneath the table. It wasn't signed, but it didn't need to be. The handwriting was as familiar to her as her own.

It read: _Dungeon 3, Midnight._


	2. Late Night Rendezvous or Two

**02**

**Late Night Rendezvous or Two**

_Well_, thought James Potter, _this almost makes all that good behavior seem worth it._ The common room that joined the Head Boy and Girl's rooms was finer than any other he'd seen at Hogwarts. Heavy drapes hung beside dark windows, and velvet chairs and cushions sat by the glowing fire. A candlelit chandelier hung over the room, illuminating an intricately carved study table and a private library lining the walls. On either side of the room, a short flight of stairs led up to their new private dormitories. It was clear that the quarters had been decorated in red and gold especially fit for its two new Gryffindor inhabitants.

Behind him, he heard the portrait hole open. Ignoring the way his gut clenched in anticipation, he looked around to see the girl with the most beautiful hair he'd ever seen.

She did not seem pleased to see him. "Potter," she greeted him shortly.

"Evans," he returned with a grin. "Enjoy that Chocolate Frog?"

"It was heavenly," she responded flatly.

She walked straight past him to the staircase with the words "Head Girl" carved above it. Through some form of magnetism, he followed her. He had just begun his climb when the staircase went out from under him and he was thrown back forcibly. He landed hard on his rump, swearing loudly as his head hit the leg of a chair.

He heard scrambling footsteps and looked up to see Lily arriving in the doorway; she had come to investigate the ruckus. She took in the situation and seemed to derive the obvious conclusion. Then she laughed. Loudly.

Massaging the lump on the back of his head, he glowered at her as she descended the stairs. "It's not funny."

She held her hand out to him and he took it. "Well," she said, pulling him to his feet, "I'm going to sleep easier knowing that you can't get into my bedroom."

"My intentions weren't…" but he stopped. Really, who was he kidding? It probably was better that he couldn't get in there.

James had known he was in trouble as soon as he'd found out that the Head Boy and Girl shared a dormitory. True, after so many rejections, he'd moved on. True also he was quite enamored of Alida. But Lily was…Lily. He had chased her for so long that it had become a habit. While he was out of her company it was a simple matter to consider those feelings dead, but when she was close enough to smell, it was another affair entirely.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, craning her neck to get a look at the back of his head.

He tried not to snap at her, but wasn't quite able to restrain himself. "Yes, it hurts."

"I'll be right back," she said, climbing up to her room. He could hear her rummaging through her trunk, then watched as she reappeared holding a tiny blue bottle.

"Sit down," she told him.

He didn't need to be told twice and sank into the same chair that had caused his injury. Lily Evans treating his wounds? He could swear he'd had this fantasy before. Of course, the wounds had been from a battle with a dragon and her ministrations had degenerated into an all-out shag, but this wasn't bad. She poured some of the remedy onto her hands, and he couldn't hold back the glee in his blood as her fingers sank into his hair. She had never touched him before, and he had wanted her to do so for too long. Every molecule of his body went mad, and he tried, but failed, to stop a bulge in his trousers from rising. He felt fortunate that the study table hid this information from his nurse.

At first, the feeling of her rubbing the mixture on the sore lump was mildly uncomfortable, but as the healing nature of the liquid took over there was only a light tingling. It may have been his imagination, but she seemed to rub longer than necessary. His eyes fell closed as he reveled in the feeling of her soft fingers tugging at his hair pleasantly in their motion. Minutes passed and her left hand had joined her right, neither of them anywhere near the injured area. As he grew more relaxed, his body awakened even more, his thoughts growing steadily more prurient.

When she pulled back from his scalp, it seemed sudden—a douse of cold water to pull him from his perverted reverie.

"Feel better?" she asked.

He swallowed. "Yes," he didn't quite manage to keep huskiness out of the word.

"Well," she said with an unsteady quality to her voice, "I'm going to bed." He heard her rush up to her room.

The simple effect of that statement had him quivering in his seat. _Lily…in bed. Oh, God._ His face fell forward into his arms and he groaned. He had to calm down. _Okay, okay, okay. Quidditch—getting hit in the face with a Bludger._ No dice. _Last Christmas—when Peter tricked Remus into eating a whole, live black beetle and he'd been sick all over the Gryffindor common room._ Not quite. _The time he and Sirius accidentally walked in on his great aunt Cassiopeia, naked, after she'd been soaking in the bath for over an hour._ That did it.

He stood and climbed the stairs up to his own room, collapsing on his new bed. This was not good. Focusing any energy on Lily Evans at all would be wasteful in general and disrespectful to Alida. A fantasy, a flirt, and a good wank now and again were one thing, rekindling his obsession was quite another.

_Actually, a good wank seems to be in order about now_, he thought as he looked down at his still overexcited body. Lily's fingers in his hair seemed to have had a more lasting effect than he'd originally thought. He was just reaching for the fastening on his trousers when he heard a muffled voice. Fingers pausing on the zip, he strained his ears; faint, indistinct, but present, the voice was persistent. When he deduced that it was coming from inside his trunk, he realized who it was.

James rolled to his side and looked at the clock on his bedside table. No wonder Sirius was getting impatient: James was late. He rose and unlocked the trunk, the irate voice becoming louder as he opened it. He reached into a pocket on the lid and retrieved a small mirror which was currently displaying his best mate's face. Sirius had been ready to yell once more, but stopped when he saw James' face.

"What the fuck, Prongs?" he was thoroughly annoyed.

"It was still in my trunk," James answered.

Sirius made a face that told him clearly what a poor excuse he thought that was. "Are you bloody well coming or not?"

James was holding the mirror in one hand and digging through the trunk for his Invisibility Cloak with the other. "I'll be along."

"After a wank?"

James froze. Realizing that his friend could see his pitched tent from the way the mirror was angled, he swiftly pointed the reflective glass upward, embarrassed and knowing he was in for some ribbing.

Sirius snorted rudely. "Even if it weren't on display, I know the way that harpy effects you. Five minutes around her and you're randier than Moony in that locker room."

James could faintly make out a protest coming from somewhere in the dormitory. Remus seemed to think the comparison unfair, seeing as how they'd spiked his pumpkin juice with a lust philter before locking him in, wandless, with three members of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team who hadn't found the situation funny.

Sirius ignored Remus' protest. "Talking of that little cock-tease, now might be a good time to finally master the Imperturbable Charm. It's not going to be four unfortunate blokes overhearing you anymore."

"Her chamber's across the common room from mine." James' temper was surfacing. Ordinarily, he ignored Sirius' tendency to refer to Lily in the most unforgiving terms, dismissing it as misplaced loyalty, but 'harpy' and 'cock-tease' were a bit much for one conversation.

"If you want to take that risk…."

James considered. Sirius had a point; the last thing he wanted was for Lily to overhear him indulging in a little self-pleasure starring her. He'd just have to get over that rash little vow he'd made regarding the Imperturbable Charm; pride was less important than Lily hearing his perverted goings-on.

"Is he coming or not?" he heard Peter's voice.

James rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'll be straight up."

"Before or after the wank?" Sirius taunted.

James was outright irritated now. "There will be no wank."

"Password's tubeworm."

"Got it," James ended the conversation, and placed the mirror in his bedside drawer.

Extracting his Transfiguration textbook from beneath a pile of clothing in his trunk, he pulled a creased map from inside the front cover. He unfolded the parchment and tapped it with his wand, whispering, "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_." The map came to life—the nooks, crannies, and passages of Hogwarts revealing themselves on the page. He saw Lily in her room, Filch in the dungeons, and not a prowler in sight.

He put out the lights in both his room and the common room, throwing his cloak over his shoulders. He checked again to be sure that Lily's door was closed before moving to the portrait hole and climbing through as quietly as he could manage.

The halls were silent as he made his way up to Gryffindor tower. He met no one along the way, and offered the password to the Fat Lady without event. He pushed open the door to the round room where he no longer slept and was greeted with general salutations and jeers.

"So," Sirius said from where he was reclining on his bed, "the Head Boy graces us with his presence."

"So it would seem," Remus said dryly, not looking up. He also was sitting on his four-poster, back propped against his pillows, a sketchpad balanced on his knees.

Peter Pettigrew was reaching under his washstand. "I got your favorite, Prongs."

"Why his favorite?" Sirius asked, in a surly voice. As Peter straightened up with a bottle clenched in his hand, Sirius made a show of snatching it from him and reading the label.

"Carombrandy again?"

James smiled. "Thanks, Wormtail."

"Not at all." The smaller boy grinned back.

"Next time, Firewhisky," Sirius commanded to no one in particular. "I mean it."

"Gudgeon?" James inquired.

Sirius inclined his head toward a four-poster that had its curtains drawn already. "Cast a charm and went to sleep. Bless him, poor square sod." He then threw his head back and took a long, healthy swig from the bottle.

James held out his hand and Sirius passed the brandy to him. He took a drink, and then turned to Remus. "Are we planning this tonight or not?"

Remus reluctantly joined them on the floor where they had converged. James passed the bottle to him.

Peter pulled from his trunk the journal in which they wrote down plans and recorded what they'd learned on their explorations.

Sirius opened the journal to the page of their hand-drawn map and said, "The next full moon is coming up fast, the eighth. We've exhausted Hogsmeade and the school grounds, so I was thinking that this year we should stop pussy-footing about and really get to know the forest."

Peter groaned.

Sirius ignored him and continued. "I was talking to that groundskeeper's assistant, Hagrid. He said that the centaurs have a shrine about here," he pointed to a place on the map that lay a few miles further than they'd explored. "Apparently, humans aren't allowed, and no one's ever seen it. If we leave directly after moonrise and head straight there, we should have an hour or so to poke about before the centaurs turn up for their midnight rituals."

Remus looked from the map to Sirius. "The direct path leads us near the Acromantula nest."

"I'm not going back there," Peter declared immediately.

Remus nodded. "I second that."

"We got out all right last time," Sirius argued.

Peter looked at Sirius as though he'd lost his mind. "We fell down a gorge and Prongs broke his arm."

Before Sirius could speak again, James intervened. "I'm going to have to agree with them on this one, Padfoot. It was a hell of a ride, but one giant spider encounter is enough for a lifetime. Besides, our lady Pomfrey told us she will no longer be looking the other way when we turn up with mysterious broken bones. It's not worth the risk."

"Fine," Sirius conceded in disappointment. "We'll take the safe route, passing close to the unicorn herd instead. Unless you ponces think they're too dangerous as well."

"Then it's settled," James said quickly. He lifted the bottle in toast. "To the unicorns!"

Remus glanced from James to Sirius as they took turns with the brandy. "We should still be fast. If the Centaurs catch us at their shrine, we'll wish we had been eaten by Acromantulas."

"Yes," James agreed, "though Wormtail came through for us last time."

Sirius threw an arm around Peter, and passed him the brandy jovially. "That he did. This silver-tongued bastard can talk his way out of anything."

Peter shrugged, taking his own hard swig from the bottle. "I've got to earn my keep somehow."

Sirius pretended to consider. "You do well enough. It's Moony dragging us down."

James tensed. Sirius had said the words thoughtlessly, jokingly, but there was no telling how Remus would take them anymore. James was starting to feel the liquor, and it was making him tired; he didn't want to worry about breaking up a fight between two of his friends. For the past year, Sirius and Remus' dynamic had been notoriously volatile. The only thing that kept them from regularly coming to blows was the latter's non-confrontational nature. There were times James wanted to shake Remus, demand that he stand up to Sirius and voice what was bothering him. But Remus more often than not deflated under Sirius' provoking gaze.

Remus raised his eyebrows, taking the bottle from Peter's outstretched hand. "Then I shall strive harder. I would never aspire to be anything but useful to you," the bitterness in his tone was so flat and faint, it would be untraceable if one weren't listening for it.

Luckily, Sirius was not. He laughed, taking a turn with the brandy again after Remus was finished.

James painted on a smile and said, "Now that's been settled, what's next on the agenda?"

Peter's voice squeaked. "Remus and I've had a thought to avenge ourselves for what Peeves did on exam week."

As he began to spell out the plan, James and Sirius looked at each other with evil grins splitting their faces. This was going to be fun.

* * *

Lily could swear she heard the portrait hole open and close. She peeked out her door, eyes meeting the darkness.

"_Lumos_," she whispered. The tip of her wand lit up the common room. She held it aloft, squinting at Potter's door across from hers. The portal had been left open and she could see his empty bed from where she stood. There was a tiny lump settled on his blankets that raised its head to see where the glow had come from. Lily's heart jumped a bit when its eyes flashed at hers, reflecting the light. Her mind took a moment to register that it was a cat. Lily groaned. The dunce would have to have a cat, wouldn't he? But still, he wasn't there. So he had gone out.

She wondered for a moment where his destination might have been, but quickly turned her thoughts elsewhere. The most likely possibility was his little Ravenclaw girlfriend—which, for reasons of her own, Lily didn't like to contemplate.

It was no secret, at least not from herself, that James Potter did…_things_ to her body. The very thought horrified her, but it was a sad reality to which she had resigned herself sometime roughly midway through her fourth year. She'd woken up in the middle of the night from what she'd fast realized to have been her first sex dream. Frantic, she'd tried to rationalize the incident as stress, the dream as symbolic. But she knew. There had been nothing in that dream but Potter's mouth, and his eyes gazing up at her from where he licked. She'd had her first orgasm that night, in her sleep. The delicious, throbbing feeling had been what waked her, and she'd sat dazed in her four-poster behind the curtains, debating whether or not to get up and take a shower.

It had to be him, the monumental tossbag, to invade her dreams and give her something she had not quite learned how to do with her hand just yet. It had humiliated her, because she truly did despise him, scared her because it meant that he held sway over a part of her. And that was the real clincher. She told herself that it wouldn't bother her so terribly that she was attracted to a boy she couldn't stand if she only knew how far the whole thing went.

The thought of him in bed with that girl was at once erotic and…uncomfortable, leaving a sick sensation boiling in her stomach. She wasn't jealous—she didn't think anyway. There was no denying that in her fantasies, asleep and awake, thoughts of him could take her where she wanted to go. But did she actually want to be there? In his bed, beneath him? A throb between her legs answered the query. Her body was all for it—she knew _that_. But her head was still in charge, and what did that part of her want exactly?

Her head knew that Potter was a bullying prat, that he was disgustingly arrogant. He thought he was a god on that broom of his, and he had nearly the whole school reinforcing the delusion. Of course, these were the same people who had swallowed the great Potter "transformation." Fifth year he was every bit the fuckwit and the tormenter he'd always been; sixth year, he'd come back from the summer holiday responsible, respectful, and, God help her, sometimes she thought he was actually being _kind_. Suddenly, he could be seen doing schoolwork. He was defending lowerclassmen rather than picking on them, even the Slytherins. And Orsino Thruston, who'd overheard McGonagall at the end of term feast, had told Lily that Potter had gone the entire year without a single detention. Naturally, Lily took that with a grain of salt. She took the whole business with a grain of salt. Potter the Dickweed was still in there somewhere, lurking, waiting to pounce—there was no doubt in Lily's mind.

Of course, her mind was also behind the great idea to give the git a scalp massage—and her mind was usually the reliable one. Somewhere between her overwhelming relief that he couldn't get into her room and the flicker of genuine pity for his pain, her mind had run away with her, much the way her body might have. It was disconcerting to say the least.

The chiming of a richly ornamented grandfather clock startled her. Midnight. It was time to stop thinking about Potter; she had her own assignation to make.

Lily grabbed up her potions kit, taking care to close both her door and the portrait hole behind her, and headed for the dungeons.

"You're late," Severus' voice echoed off the cold, mildew-frosted stone.

"I am not."

She looked down at him; he was sitting at a brewing-table cutting ingredients, a steaming cauldron on the fire. His long black hair was hanging in his face and his dark eyes looked up at her neutrally.

"Though, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he continued as though she hadn't made a denial. "You're late every time."

Lily didn't press the point. "I don't much appreciate this, Severus. You can't drop a note in my pocket any time and expect me to be available for an experimental brew."

"Evidently, I can," he said, inclining his head to her satchel.

"Don't be nasty," her lips twisted. "I can walk out as easily as I walked in."

He dropped the minced eel's bane into the pot. "But you still brought your potions kit with you. You came here intending to give me an earful, and then carry on as usual."

"Well, yes," Lily said. "But that doesn't mean I'm not serious, or that I can't change my mind."

He nodded, yielding. "Point taken." Something contemptuous stole over his features. "I confess that I doubted you'd come at all, what with how friendly you were today with our new Head Boy."

"What do you mean?"

"In the prefects meeting you could hardly take your eyes off him."

"I was shocked."

His lip curled unpleasantly. "As was I. But shock does little to explain gifts and ear whispering."

She couldn't help but feel smug pleasure that he had been watching her during the Sorting. He was rarely so transparent, which only meant he was too jealous to care that he was tipping his hand. "I never refuse chocolate." She shifted her weight, eyeing him piercingly. "What is this, Severus?"

"Boil Cure Potion."

That response caught her off guard, and she froze. She had meant what game was he playing, but now she knew. That potion was of first-year difficulty. It was also the first they had brewed together.

It was then that she truly considered the situation. His note had been hastily, almost sloppily scrawled. He always arrived to these sessions early, thus his accusation that she was always late, but he'd never started without her before. He wasn't being sycophantically obliging as he had been since she'd thrown him over—he was being spiteful, acting like himself. This meant that he wasn't trying to win her back. Rather his goal was her company tonight for nothing further than this simple potion.

She swallowed slowly as the pieces fell together, an overwhelming sense of dread assailing her. Something was very, very wrong.

"Okay," she whispered.

Gazing at him, she saw that he knew she had understood his purpose and was surrendering to it. His lips curved into a self-satisfied smirk at the intimacy such intuition implied. She tried not to be put off by that and began unpacking her kit. Something was going on here, and she was determined to find out what.

Lily had known Severus since before her days at Hogwarts. He had taught her the depth of her power, had made the wizarding world real to her. He was her first confidante and mischief partner, as she and her sister Petunia had been of such opposed temperaments that neither bond had ever truly taken hold between them.

After arriving at school, both of them had been taken in by Horace Slughorn, the Potions Professor and Head of Slytherin House, and were also made part of his "Slug Club." When their natural aptitude for his subject presented itself, Slughorn had taken an even more pronounced interest, giving the two of them special assignments which challenged their creativity in potion making as well as their ability to follow a recipe. It was during these shared assignments that their friendship had climbed to new heights, though Lily had known instinctively to keep things as quiet as possible, as much for Severus' sake as her own. Gryffindors and Slytherins weren't friends commonly, particularly when the Gryffindor was Muggle-born and there was a war on. It wasn't much of an effort then; the only times she really saw him were during their special projects, Slughorn's parties, and the odd Hogsmeade weekends. As each school year passed, she saw him changing in ways that worried her, but she had faith that his heart, if not his conscience, would not allow him to wander beyond reclamation, that he would come back to the boy she'd befriended—and he did, each summer.

Then, in their fifth year, things had taken a turn Lily still couldn't manage to fathom. It had been on a night like this, in dungeon three. They had special permission from Slughorn to use the classroom at all times, and even Filch knew not to disturb them there regardless if it was three in the morning. They had been brewing Euphoria; the fumes had made them dizzy and a little giddy. Severus had kissed her; she'd kissed him back. Things had gotten out of hand from there.

She knew she loved Severus, though perhaps not the way he seemed to love her. She thought of him mostly as a friend, but it ran so much deeper than that. He was _hers_. She was the only one who seemed to see his worth, his goodness. She knew him in ways others couldn't guess, saw sides of him she knew he showed to no one else. Maybe she had been falling in love with him for a long time, or maybe it had just been the potion. But for whatever reason, she had lost her virginity to Severus Snape that night.

And the next day—the very next day—he had called her a Mudblood.

He had told her it just slipped out, that he hadn't meant it. But in many ways that had made it worse. True he had been humiliated, true he had been pushed past the limits of his temper by Black and that braying jackass Potter, but Mudblood wasn't the sort of thing any decent bloke called his girl under any circumstance.

Lily had been heartbroken, closeting herself up in her Gryffindor Tower dormitory with Pilar, Melody, Mary McDonald, and Daphne Sykes comforting her as she cried—each trying not to say, "I told you so." Some with more success than others. Severus had begged for another chance, even pulled a few stunts to show his determination, but she did not give in.

In that moment, when he had flung that blood-slur at her, she understood with the kind of clarity that presented itself seldom but demanded to be taken seriously, that Severus was lost to her. That he had attached himself to monsters, and he was becoming one. Malfoy, and Avery, and Rosier, and Mulciber, and Lestrange had won. Her dearest friend was gone, and she would never be getting him back.

She sometimes felt as though she had spent the past year and a half in mourning for the boy she'd thought Severus was, his corpse wandering about as if to mock her and the childish faith she'd had in him. All the while he tried over and over to regain her approval, but she steeled herself against her wistfulness. Still, she met him for brewing…because she missed that dead boy, and the excitement of a brew was the only place the old Severus could be found.

Lily pulled the supplies she would need to complete the potion from her kit, ticking the instructions off in her head. She hated this room—too many good memories that now lay sullied. Blinking against the tears pricking her eyes, she asked, "Did you add the black beetles yet?"

"No."

She nodded. Gathering what she needed, she sat beside him and began working her paring knife. She tried not blush under the intense scrutiny as he watched. What did he hope to gain from this?

She dropped the sliced bugs into the pot, and he reached out to stir. It was then that her eyes registered something he'd managed to hide since her entry.

"What happened to your arm?" she asked alarmed. His left arm was bandaged from wrist to elbow.

"It's nothing," he said. "I injured myself over the holiday."

Lily felt a rush of fierce anger. She knew all about his "injuries". "Severus, if he hurt you again—"

"It wasn't my father," he dismissed with an air of finality that she ignored completely.

"It is not nothing, Sev," she made a grab for his arm. "It never has been."

He caught her wrist in a grip that was almost painful, his black eyes so severe they filled her with apprehension. He was on the verge of saying something, but then seemed to undergo a drastic shift in purpose and jerked her into his arms instead.

All at once his lips were on hers. Her eyes wide, Lily resisted limply, but he did not relent. She caught the desperation in the kiss and comprehension dawned. _This_ was what he needed. She submitted. She wanted the moment to end, but understood him too well to push him away.

The reality may be that the boy she cared for was gone, that he had become someone she didn't recognize—someone that scared her, if she were honest. But she still knew him well enough to recognize that something had him skittish, reckless. And Severus Snape was rarely reckless.

The kiss broke. He clutched her to him like a man hanging off a cliff would grip his lifeline, and Lily was shaken. Her arms went around him and she kissed his shoulder tenderly. What had happened to him to make him so frightened?

When he pulled back to look at her, his rigid control had slipped and the vulnerability was stark in his eyes. "Lily, I…" But he couldn't seem to finish.

The awkward minute stretched and stretched until Lily gently pried his fingers from her arms. "We need to remove the cauldron from the fire before we add the porcupine quills."

The moment snapped, and they filled the flasks with the finished potion wordlessly. In that silence Lily made a rather rash decision.

As they cleaned up the mess and repacked their kits, she said, "Sev?"

He looked at her.

"Next week, Tuesday?" She tried to disguise as much as possible that she was holding her breath. There was a distinct niggling in the back of her head that she was being foolish and rather feckless with her feelings. But he was in pain, and she had never fared well watching him suffer. She couldn't resist, even though she was very much aware of the odds of this turning out badly.

Severus hesitated a moment, then nodded.

She smiled and indulged herself in a kiss to his cheek before heading up to her new dormitory.

Lily opened the portrait hole carefully. She had no obligation to tell Potter where she had gone or what she had done, but that didn't mean he wouldn't ask—and that conversation was one she was simply too tired to have tonight. She glanced into his room on her way through the dark. He was not back yet. He was probably still with Alisa, or Adilla, or whatever that girl's name was.

She climbed into bed, her thoughts occupied. When she finally fell off into a deep sleep hours later, Potter had still not returned.


	3. A Quiet Saturday Morning

**03**

**A Quiet Saturday Morning**

Alida Ackerley had just finished applying her beauty potions and was tacking her hair up attractively when Maggie Bagnold stumbled into the common girls' toilet.

"Good morning," Alida said, not taking her eyes off the mirror. Her friend always had a difficult time getting started in the morning.

Maggie made a half-civilized noise in return. She then fumbled about her sink for her hairbrush. When, after two minutes of searching through her disorganized cabinets, she still couldn't find it, Maggie reached for her wand. "Fuck it," she whispered grouchily.

Alida stepped back as Maggie began casting all manner of hair styling spells, followed by tooth brushing and face washing charms. Alida smiled wryly, but did not comment. Maggie was, as a rule, the last in their dormitory to use such measures. She took her appearance very seriously and maintained that beauty spells from the end of a wand could never quite match the work done by hands. She was correct, of course. Alida just liked watching Maggie indulge her inner hypocrite.

"Late night with Sirius?"

"Yes," Maggie grumbled.

"What time did you get in?"

"About four."

Alida raised her eyebrows in alarm. "In the morning?"

Maggie gave her a nasty look, and Alida smiled.

"Would you like a hangover potion?" she asked.

"No," mumbled Maggie. But then she seemed to go stiff, as though remembering something she would rather not. "But I could use a contraceptive potion…or two."

"You didn't take your dose yesterday?"

Maggie winced. "I forgot."

Alida dug through her cabinet a moment, finding an unopened case in the back. When she'd first began sleeping with James, she'd bought quite the stash. They tasted foul and smelled worse. A drop a day was enough—provided one didn't skip a dose. In that event, two whole phials were required.

Alida extracted two bottles from the case and handed them to Maggie, eyeing her friend guardedly. While Alida was grateful she'd never had such a lapse, this must have been Maggie's twelfth or thirteenth. Sometimes Alida couldn't help but speculate if Maggie secretly _sought_ to get pregnant. It would certainly be the sort of news to cause a scandal and a fuss, and that would be just what Maggie would have in mind.

Millicent Bagnold was in the political game and had her eye on the Minister's seat. It was likely she'd get it, too. Maggie had been a late and unanticipated addition to her life, and one she'd rather ignored. Maggie was not the sort of person who handled being ignored well. It was hardly a surprising situation, nor was it remotely unique, but Maggie was hell-bent on believing her circumstance was both.

The dark-haired girl made a face as she swallowed the contents of the bottles. "Uggh. Shite tastes like piss." She passed the empty flasks back to Alida, who, in turn, deposited them in a bin that rested between them.

Alida was used to that sort of behavior. For all Maggie publicly renounced everything of her refined background, she still expected things to be done for her. In that sense, she and Sirius were rather well matched. God help them when they were alone and something needed to be thrown away.

Confronting Maggie about her irresponsible behavior never crossed Alida's mind. She knew by now that reasoning with Maggie—about anything—was a fruitless undertaking. Her friend liked risks and taboos. This went a long way in illuminating Maggie's fascination with Sirius. Alida knew how to spot a dangerous boy, and the dispossessed Black heir more than fit the bill. He was reckless, egocentric, and destructive to himself and to others—just like Maggie. Alida, for all her diffidence and vacillation, was not delusional in her view of her friend. Indeed, her alternate theory on why Maggie went through so many double phials of contraceptive potions was that she simply _got off_ on unprotected, risky sex.

"Are you coming to breakfast?"

"In a moment," Maggie answered, opening her makeup kit.

Alida nodded. "I'll meet you in the Great Hall."

Descending the stairs, she bumped into Keagan Cornfoot at the bottom. She immediately recoiled, partly by reflex and partly in reaction to him. There was something about Cornfoot that put her off—aside from the malodorous tome cradled his arms.

"Oh," he said, smiling, "you're almost the person I was looking for. Do you know where Maggie is?"

"She's not ready yet."

"Well, her boyfriend is waiting outside the common room entrance."

Alida nodded. "Thank you."

She headed straight for the passage door leading out of Ravenclaw tower. Sirius looked up from where he was yawning as he leaned against a wall, Peter beside him.

"She's applying her makeup," she answered his look of inquiry.

Sirius nodded and closed his eyes, propping his head against a curio cabinet.

"James?" she asked looking around.

Peter inclined his head toward the nearby stairs. "He should be along. We haven't seen him yet this morning."

Alida nodded, feeling something droop in her stomach. James was spending an inordinate amount of time in his dormitory lately. She understood that he had many new responsibilities and that he did not wish to let Dumbledore down, but she was also aware that he was sharing quarters with a girl he'd pursued with puppy eyes since his third year. Alida strove to not be insecure about it, but not being insecure had never been her forte.

"I'll go find him." She forced a smile. "We'll meet you by the lake."

She moved down the spiral stairs and toward the Head dormitories. She had just reached the landing when she saw the figure of Regulus Black approaching.

"Hello." She smiled in greeting, though she had a notion of why he was there.

He crested the landing and returned her greeting formally but warmly. Her reservations were confirmed when he held out a letter to her.

She took the scroll from him. "You could give this to Sirius yourself, you realize? He's just a flight up."

"Not for Merlin's fanciest knickers."

Alida nodded and quickly changed the subject. "How's Jill fairing?"

Regulus considered. "Better, though still prone to fits of violence. They found Dexter's body last week. I think she was still telling herself he could be alive."

"That's awful," Alida said with sympathy. "Give her my best."

"Of course," he inclined his head respectfully. "Now, I really must be going. Severus will be wondering where I've got to."

"Oh, are the two of you working on a project?"

He paused after taking his first step down the stairs and looked back at her with something of a smile on his face. "In a manner of speaking. Good day, Alida."

"Good day, Regulus."

Alida stood stationary for a long moment, the scroll with Mrs. Black's handwriting in her fingers. She could go up a flight of stairs and give the thing to Sirius now, but letters from his mother always put him in a boorish temper. She expected his reaction to the letter to be doubly so now that he was no longer an underage runaway, but a man with his own flat, bought and paid for with newly inherited Black family money. In all likelihood, such was the very subject of the letter that had now changed hands twice.

She slipped the parchment inside her robes. There was no benefit in upsetting him before breakfast on a Saturday.

Sighing, she once again began her descent. She didn't care for playing courier, but Mrs. Black couldn't bring herself to write her eldest son directly, and Regulus couldn't stand handing letters over to his brother personally. Unfortunately, Alida was the only neutral liaison. Maggie was too snappish, too defensive of Sirius. Peter and Remus were too far beneath the Blacks on the blood ladder, and certainly too Gryffindor for Regulus' sensibilities. And James, well…Alida was sure that, by now, he was considered toxic by any of the Blacks.

The problem with the Potters wasn't as simple as the condemning factors against many other families who stood in opposition to the Blacks. They had all the money the Prewetts and Weasleys lacked and the pristine lineage the Twycrosses wanted for. Added to that, they had the connections and political leverage of the Boneses, the Longbottoms, the Smiths, and the Crouches—not to mention a few ancestors tangled up in the Black family's own tree. When Sirius first befriended James his parents had little objection, save perhaps that the Potters were well known for their Muggle-born sympathies and backing of anti-Dark Arts legislation. But that was hardly how things stood now. Sirius had gone off to Hogwarts, in Regulus' words, "a bit odd" but had returned home "irretrievably poisoned" against his family. Alida had it on good authority that Orion and Walburga Black laid the bulk of their son's desertion at James' feet.

While this accusation was ludicrous in many ways, Alida could not deny that James was an influence to be reckoned with. Her family had a proud pure-blooded history of its own, and while her parents claimed to be more isolationists than pure-blood supremacists, the term "Mudblood" had been freely tossed about in her home. Alida herself had always been ambivalent on the subject, but dating James and listening to his tirades had swayed her. This was something she had confessed to her father toward the end of the summer holiday, after a comment made by her uncle Abraxas upset her. She'd been surprised by her father's indifferent reaction to her newly forged political views. He instead had been more concerned over her hurt feelings as a result of his brother-in-law's callousness. But then, she'd also been taken aback by her parents' lack of objection to her dating James in the first place.

This puzzlement spread to both sides, as James had never said a word that suggested he held her family against her. And scum-by-association was hardly a tack above her boyfriend. True the Ackerleys were neither anti-Muggle activists nor Dark Arts proponents, but their immediate familial ties to both the Malfoys and the Puceys were hardly secrets. Alida silently wondered if James dealt with this by pretending her connection to those people didn't exist. More than a month had passed and he hadn't said a word about her cousin Dexter's death.

Alida frowned as she made her way along a fourth floor corridor. By all accounts, Jillian was taking her eldest brother's death very hard. Alida didn't know much about the details, but her heart went out to her cousins. Dexter had been barely twenty.

Her pace slowed as she approached the Head dormitories. James was in there. With _her_. The image made her head throb painfully. She tried to quash the fear, or at least shove it aside, but she'd been sensing James' detachment and waning interest for some months. If there was any girl in Hogwarts who could exacerbate that progression, it was Lily Evans. The reality was that Lily wouldn't even need to encourage his advances or feelings in order for Alida to be ousted—she just had to be there, in his space and in his thoughts.

Alida could see the whole conversation from here: he would be deeply apologetic as he told her his dormant feelings had caught him off guard in their sudden resurgence…like a volcano deciding to erupt one morning just to punish everyone for thinking it was dead. His sense of decency wouldn't allow him to continue seeing her if his amorous interest had wandered elsewhere—after all, it "wouldn't be fair to her." Her lips twisted to a smile that was half derisive, half affectionate. He would love playing at nobility that way. Perhaps now was the time for a preemptive strike. It was always better to do the dumping than to be the dumped. It was sensible plan, if she could summon the courage to follow through.

* * *

James had just wakened from a dream that could only be described as depraved. The stickiness in his pants was humidly confining as he rolled onto his back, and he groaned. He'd made a hell of a mess in his sheets, something he hadn't done in years. It would seem that sheer proximity to Lily was enough to bring out his inner thirteen-year-old.

The knock at his door, the briskly agitated one that had roused him in the first place, sounded again against the heavy oak.

"Coming," his sleep-gritty voice bellowed.

James tossed his covers to one side and rose to stand on lazy, unsteady legs. He yanked the drawstring of his pajama bottoms and let them fall with his boxers to the ground before stooping to toss them in the clothes hamper. With the impatient knocking in the background, he pulled on unsullied replacements and reached for his robe. With a glance at the bed to be sure the wet spot was covered, he headed for the door—banging his knee painfully on the corner of his trunk along the way and swearing loudly.

He fumbled with the lock before finally jerking the damned door open and halting the incessant racket. The vibrant smear of color that matched her hair would have been enough to go on, but he squinted just to be sure it was Lily.

"Yes?" he snapped.

He saw her mouth fall open, and it gradually occurred to him how he must look. His robe was only half on as one of the sleeves had been inside out and he hadn't taken the time to deal with it, leaving his chest completely bare. The weight of his hair was pulling at his scalp in the odd way that told him it was far, far messier than usual, and he could feel pillow marks etched into the side of his face. _Bugger_. He looked like a slob.

"I—" her voice caught. He was having difficulty reading her expression. She'd moved back when he'd wrenched open the door, which put her a good three feet away. Without his glasses, everything got blurry after two.

"Excuse me," he said tersely. James ducked back into his room and groped for the glasses on his bedside table. He made sure to give his trunk a wide berth this time as, apparently, he couldn't see it. Scrambling for clean pajama bottoms in a room he was fairly familiar with was one thing, sparring with Lily was quite another; he needed his full sight.

Sliding the frames onto his face, he turned around to see that Lily had followed, entering his room behind him. A panic level such as he'd never experienced seized him, and he froze. His eyes darted once again to the mussed blankets on his bed, reassuring himself that the results of his dream could not be seen, and he pleaded with the gods of magic that she wouldn't recognize the smell hanging in the air.

Her eyes weren't on him, but scanning the room with interest. He took the opportunity to straighten his robe so that he could close it. Then he ran his fingers through his hair in a careful motion, so as to avoid aggravating the numerous tangles. That was how she saw him when her gaze stopped on his form. Her lips were pressed tightly in a way that told him she was not happy, and he pulled his fingers from his hair.

Lily seemed ready to speak again when, suddenly, she jumped inelegantly and yelped in alarm. A small orange kitten had attacked her maryjane with ferocity and playfulness. Clutching the clipboard in her arms to her chest, Lily was now looking down at her assailant, who was blinking back in curiosity.

James smiled. "Wound a bit this morning, Evans?" He stepped forward and scooped up the kitten. "She didn't mean any harm."

Lily's eyes were narrowing now. "May we have this discussion without her?"

"Don't like cats?"

"Not terribly, no."

"Well," he said conversationally to the kitten in his hand, "it seems you've been rejected. Don't take it personally, you're not the first." He winked at Lily, who seemed to lose her patience.

"I was talking to Helena Burke this morning about her rounds for the month."

He shrugged. "So?"

"So, look at this," she shoved the clipboard towards him.

Taking it, he saw it was the prefects' patrol rounds schedule, filled out in his own handwriting. "So?"

"Does there seem to be anything at all odd about Pucey, Black, Burke, Flint, Yaxley, or Snape's schedules to you?"

James shrugged quizzically. It seemed to be the same schedule he'd made a few days before on the train, but he couldn't be sure. He'd rather done the thing in a hurry.

"You gave them all the latest shifts," Lily accused once she tired of waiting for him to surmise her grievance.

He still didn't see the problem. "I told you I did."

"I thought you were joking—or flirting—or something else you do that's equally pathetic."

Tiny claws were dragging across the skin of his hand, not scratching but making their owner's desire to be put down clear. He deposited the kitten on the bed behind him without looking. "And I thought we'd already discussed a solution. You do the rounds schedule next month, and everybody wins."

Lily shook her head. "That is not the solution. You're going to redo this schedule so that everyone's shifts are fair."

"Or what? You'll spank me?" he wagged his eyebrows at her.

James was fascinated by the blush that briefly swept her cheeks. "There should be no reason to spank you…or to involve Dumbledore." She said the last casually, though she did not meet his eyes.

His jaw clenched. Threatening to tell Dumbledore was a dirty play. So he decided to switch tactics. He knew he wouldn't be able to get a clear win out of this; he _was_ in the wrong after all. But if he countered sensibly instead of taunting her, he might be able to gain some ground. "If we're going back to the start, my doing the entire schedule isn't fair either. We were supposed to do it together."

She paused and he watched her consider. "True," she agreed grudgingly. "All right, here's a clean form. You assign the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. Give it back to me tonight, and I'll assign the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws."

He didn't want to press her at this point. Her anger had faded, and he didn't want to prod it again. "Is that everything?"

"No." Lily sighed. "Dumbledore wants us to make the arrangements for Pledge Week."

James groaned. He had no desire to attend the thing, let alone plan it. He didn't belong to a single club and that was a comfy place for him. Realizing this meant their conversation was hardly over, he decided to go about his morning routine. He leaned toward Lily, reaching for his watch which rested on top of the chest of drawers behind her—after all, he was due to meet Alida (he glanced at the timepiece) a half an hour ago.

"You know more about that sort of thing than I do, what with the Slug Club, the Divination Society—and, say, aren't you the president of the Charms Club?" he said, opening a drawer and extracting a pair of boxers and socks. Perhaps if he made her uncomfortable enough, she would just leave and he…. His thoughts trailed off as he looked down at her face.

His body was inches from hers, but she hadn't backed away while he rummaged through the drawers. True, backing up would only pin her against the chest of drawers, but he wasn't blocking any escape routes, and she could just as easily step to the side as back. But she seemed rigidly frozen. Her eyes were fixed on his shoulder, and the most tempting flush was making her skin glow.

The simple innocence of it made him smile. _It doesn't take much to rattle a virgin, does it?_ He bent a little closer, sure to move his hand around in the drawer so it sounded as though he was searching for something. And still, she didn't move.

James could feel her body heat now and realized how dangerous this could be. His body was already catching fire. Through the fabric of his robe, he felt her release a shaky breath against his shoulder. Then she shifted her weight and leaned even closer in a way that seemed almost…antsy.

_She wasn't…. Was she? No, she couldn't be. _

The thought of Lily randy was so heady, so powerfully arousing that he was plagued by a sudden compulsion to push her back against the chest of drawers and kiss her till he couldn't breathe. Then, of course, he'd hump her ragged. His hands actually twitched to grab her when movement in the mirror drew his eyes to the kitten on his bed. _Alida._

He pulled back from Lily as though he'd been slapped. _What the fuck was he doing?_ Unable to speak, he stalked to the wardrobe and wrenched the door open. Ripping a uniform from its hanger, he locked himself in his private loo. With any luck, she would be gone when he finished.

He was losing his grip, utterly, and that was unacceptable. He'd set boundaries for himself regarding living with Lily. Fantasize? Obviously. Dream? As if he could control that. Wank? Shit, yes. Touch? Not unless he was looking to despise himself. Alida was not the love of his life by any means, but she was his girlfriend of a year and he did care for her. Lily was an obsession, a cloying, fetid disease that never seemed to make its way fully through his system. She'd rejected him, verbally eviscerated him, danced at his every degradation, and poured salt on his every wound. So what if she had the best legs of any girl at Hogwarts, that she smelled of spiced apples, that her smile made him smile and her laugh made him laugh? She didn't want him. The choice between the two girls was facilely unambiguous. Too bad his entire being seemed bent to scrape together plans of subterfuge in hopes of ruining his life.

Perhaps it was simply a bit of protracted disbelief, even after countless refusals. How could he feel so much admiration and attraction if she felt nothing? It didn't make sense and, evidently, there was a part of him that just wasn't buying it. But, as he washed and began dressing, he conceded that it didn't matter. Lily, his constant preoccupation with her, and the subject of her view of him all belonged in his past—a mystery to be abandoned unsolved.

James opened the door as he slung the gold and crimson tie around his neck. He froze stalk-still at the sight that greeted him: Lily settled on his bed—seated directly over his wet mess. A manic pulse pounded in his veins and he fervently prayed that the layers of blanket would be barrier enough to keep the dampness from reaching her. He swallowed heavily and slowly, caught between the fear of his degeneracy being discovered and his undeniable arousal. _Merlin was he a pervy bastard._

He looked away, chanting to himself not to panic. His best chance of coming through this situation unscathed lay in acting as though there was nothing improper going on at all. Lily had yet to glance his way since he exited the loo, her attention focused on the kitten, which, despite her earlier declaration of dislike, she was now petting. Staring raptly at her likeness in the mirror, he began to knot his necktie.

"What's her name?" Lily asked, pulling up from the striped kitten and meeting her gaze with his reflection.

James had to think a moment. He knew the cat's name, of course, but he rarely if ever used it. "Pumpkin," he answered.

Lily appeared as though she might laugh—the glint in her eyes said certainly she'd tease. "Pumpkin?"

He nodded. "Alida," he said simply. "She named it before she gave it to me."

Something that looked like discomfort crossed Lily's features, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared and she was back to scoffing. "Your girlfriend gave you a kitten?"

He shrugged, sliding his feet into his shoes. "Her cat had kittens, and her mother wouldn't let her keep them. It was either fob them off or…you know. She got Sirius to take one, too."

Lily sniggered at that, but he doubted she found it quite as comical as he did, knowing that his best mate spent a sizable portion of his life as a dog.

"Speaking of," James announced, "I'm late meeting Alida." It was a blatant dismissal, but none of his other tactics had worked, and he was in a hurry to get away from her.

"Pledge Week?"

"Later on tonight—I'll interrupt _your_ sleep after I've finished the schedule."

"You can't."

James didn't quite know how to react to that, "I can't?"

"No," Lily said, "you can't get into my room, remember?"

_Oh, right_. It was then that it occurred to him the implications of their current setting. "But you're in my room."

Lily nodded awkwardly, as though his speaking the words aloud made her uneasy. "Yes, I am. It's same system the House dormitories use."

Of course—_girls more trustworthy_ or some other load of bollocks. He mumbled vulgarly about double standards under his breath. "Fine, we'll meet in the common room. Agreed?"

She nodded. "Agreed."

He couldn't leave his room fast enough, couldn't get away from Lily fast enough. He made very sure his door was firmly shut behind him, and he silently cast a spell to lock it while Lily made her way up the stairs to her own room.

Climbing through the portrait hole, he looked up to see Alida leaning against the far wall.

"Morning," he said.

She smiled reservedly. "Good morning."

"Why didn't you come in?" he asked, although he was exceedingly thankful she had not.

Alida shrugged. "I couldn't remember the password."

She was lying.

"Breakfast?" he asked, closing the portrait behind him.

Straightening, she nodded. Smiling at her broadly, more to compensate for the awkwardness than of any real joy at seeing her, he lifted his arm around her shoulders. After his episode with Lily, he felt too guilty to kiss Alida, and it struck him that she didn't seem to mind.

He didn't know what was going on between them, but whatever it was, it was boring. Alida was smart—a bit elitist in her aptitude, really. But then, she was a Ravenclaw, so that was hardly surprising. The problem was getting her to talk. There were times he felt as though he was dating a mundane but attractively accessorized mannequin. She didn't have much imagination or sense of humor—or if she did, she rarely displayed either. But she was sweet, genuine, and she could be affectionate when she didn't feel self-conscious about it. And she had one hot body. He would be deceiving himself if he didn't admit that part of his original purpose in dating her was getting her naked. He'd succeeded in a remarkably short amount of time, and found himself quite smitten. After Lily's repeated rejections and put-downs, Alida's unflinching and readily given adoration was a balm to his ego. Yet, the shine was rubbing off their relationship, and he was beginning to wonder more and more often how well they suited.

When they reached the Great Hall, he ate quickly while Alida picked at some eggs. They were in a rush to meet their friends under the regular tree, and the silence continued uncomfortably all through the meal.

Peter and Remus were waiting, but Maggie and Sirius were nowhere to be seen. Remus was working on an Astronomy essay, and Peter was lying on his back with his eyes closed. The night before he'd been sent to nick potion ingredients from Slughorn's office, so he was doubtless tired.

"They went behind the greenhouses for some private time," Peter yawned, informing James and Alida of their friends' whereabouts.

James nodded, sitting down with his back propped against the trunk of the tree. He was mildly, but pleasantly, surprised when Alida sat between his legs and reclined against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, and she snuggled deeper when he lightly kissed the crown of her head.

They had scarcely settled in when Ronan King approached. After cursory greetings to the group, he addressed James. "Have you decided when you'll hold Quidditch tryouts yet?"

"Next Saturday," he replied. "I'll post a notice in the common room."

When King had left, Peter asked, "Are you going to replace him this year?"

"I'd like to, but he seems to be the best Gryffindor has at the moment." He hit his head against the rough bark in frustration. "I wish we could have Jones. If she weren't a Hufflepuff, I'd say she was the best Seeker in school."

"She _is_ the best Seeker in school," Remus said. "Though Regulus holds his own," he added almost as an afterthought.

James sighed. "True, but don't let Sirius hear you say that. Jones is going to make our first game hell—especially if we have to go with King. There are times I doubt if he can see the Quaffle."

Peter guffawed.

"He's certainly failed to see a few Bludgers in his time," Remus agreed dryly.

"You could play the position, Prongs," Peter said with absolute faith.

James shook his head. "I hated being Seeker—up, out there, looking around, away from all the action. I love being in the thick of it."

Peter shrugged where he lay. "It was just a suggestion."

The group fell silent as they heard raised voices approaching. Stifling a groan, James swore. _Not again._

"…I know you were into it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"If that bothers you so much, maybe you shouldn't have suggested it."

"Are you saying this is my fault?"

"Are you listening?"

"Don't be a bitch."

Peter had sat up, and Alida moved forward. Remus had pointedly gone back to his assignment.

Stalking into view, Maggie's normally smoky features were twisted unattractively with rage. She was followed by Sirius who was tense and flushed with his own fury.

Maggie was night to Alida's day. Unreasonable, unpredictable, and unaccountable, she brought out the worst in Sirius, and theirs was a volatile association. At any given moment the carnage could hit, and God help the bystanders.

"Don't ask me to fulfill your perverted fantasies if you're not man enough to handle it," she snapped nastily.

The personal nature of the fight didn't surprise James in the least. There were few people at Hogwarts who didn't know the most intimate details of Sirius and Maggie's relationship. This was typical; they had no sense of privacy.

"What did you say?" Sirius made a grab for her arm.

She jerked away. "Don't touch me! Don't ever touch me again."

"No objection there," Sirius snarled. "I know where you've been."

"Limp worm!"

"Slag!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

James fought the urge to roll his eyes. _Five-year-olds. Spectacular._

The newly-split couple stared at each other for a prolonged, tense moment. Then Maggie whirled on the spot and ran to the castle. James could hear her crying dramatically before she'd passed the nearest tree.

The uneasiness continued as Alida rose. She leveled an unforgiving glare of the deepest loathing at Sirius and withdrew a letter from inside her robes. Passing it to him coldly, she followed her friend.

"That was a little more heated than usual," Remus said mildly.

"Fuck off," Sirius snapped as he tore open his letter.

Remus was right. Every three months or so, Sirius and Maggie would have a blowout—usually public—after which, they'd spend a week going through a cycle from resentment, to pining, to finally getting back together. But this was the worst fight James had seen in a while. Perhaps they were really finished for good this time. James sincerely hoped so. He couldn't stand Maggie, and didn't like the way Sirius acted while he was with her.

"Oh, arrgh—Merlin's bloody arsehole!" Sirius swore, crushing the letter in his fist.

"What?" James asked.

"That cunt," he gnashed, and James knew Sirius was referring to his mother, "is suing me for Uncle Alphard's money."


	4. Marks and Misconceptions

**04**

**Marks and Misconceptions**

"Do you think it's you?" Melody asked, yawning as they walked down to the greenhouses for their Herbology lesson.

"No, I think it's Dumbledore."

"Feminine wiles slipping are they?" she teased.

Lily gave her friend a sour look. Despite pranks like the patrol rounds fiasco, she'd been shocked at how dutifully Potter had fulfilled his Head Boy obligations. Not only had he promptly and fairly redressed the Slytherin and Hufflepuff schedules, but he'd also turned up on time to plan Pledge Week with several ideas on hand to popularize the event and make it run more smoothly. He'd even been a great help with the safety campaign sponsored by the Heads of House, helping to design and hang notices all over the school grounds, which warned students not to swim in the Black Lake, set foot in the Forbidden Forest, or climb the battlements of the Astronomy Tower. Lily had watched him, unable to decide if she was disgusted or amused at the sincerity with which he hung the banners and smiled at the teachers who praised their efforts. She had seen him break all three rules at least twice, and she would put up money that he had every intention of continuing to do so.

From a distance, James Potter's new and improved behavior seemed to be an elaborate hoax—as though he'd simply found another way to squawk and preen for attention. Up close, however, Lily had come to suspect there was something much more subtle and sinister at work. After watching the unshakable exhibitionist blush with pleasure and true modesty under the Headmaster's acclamation, she realized that at least some of this show was _genuine_. At times it seemed as though he was at war with himself: a part striving to prove himself worthy of Dumbledore's appointment, and another part wanting nothing more than to fly around on his broom, pelting first year Slytherins with raw eggs stolen from the kitchens. The discovery of this duality didn't trouble or surprise her—both personas were glory hounds and thus consistent with Potter's nature. Rather, what worried her was that, when he smiled, the two looked the same. The boy lied so effortlessly that, most times, she couldn't tell the probity from the guile.

"Well, Dumbledore does have piles of sweets in his office. And whatever pittance a bag of Bertie's may be, it's still more of a treat than whatever you're handing out."

Lily's frown deepened. Melody was the only person to whom she'd ever admitted her attraction to Potter. Most days she regretted the confidence. "You know full well I haven't been handing out a thing."

Her friend shrugged. "To James anyway."

"Don't start."

"All right, I won't," she said. Her tone made Lily feel as though they'd had the whole conversation anyway.

"Shut your gob, or I'll end the gossip there."

Melody paused, eyeing her friend. "You have real dirt, don't you?"

Lily considered; this really wasn't the sort of thing she should tell. She pulled Melody off the path to where they were less likely to be heard.

After a token moment of hesitation, she lowered her voice. "Since the first day of classes, I've had the suspicion that he's been sneaking that sallow nit up for a shag every few nights—"

Melody shrugged that information aside. "I'd be disappointed in him if he weren't."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Well, last night I went down to the common room to get some potions books I'd left there and, well, either the git can't cast an Imperturbable Charm or they were both shouting their lungs out."

"Shouting what?"

"Mostly she was praising his…oral skills," she felt the laughter beginning to bubble in her. "Then, I'm supposing from the racket of the bed hitting the wall, he started pounding her brains out, and she…" Lily couldn't hold the snigger in anymore; she could barely speak her voice was so laugh-warped. "She kept calling him her…her 'stag.'"

"Stag?" Melody repeated incredulously before dissolving into her own giggles. "Not a stallion, or a bull, or a tiger?"

"Evidently not."

"What did you do?"

"What else? I ran for it so they wouldn't hear me laughing."

Melody shook her head in wonderment. "That is one of the more peculiar variations of perverted I've heard."

"Gave me a turn," Lily wiped the tears from her eyes. "And the fact that it came from _her_, no less. I've barely heard that mouse mumble two words together, ever."

A self-important voice called from the path, intruding, "You two are going to be late."

Melody waved, "Thanks Pye." He turned away, and she added under her breath, "Armadillo molester."

"Mel, _please_."

"What?" she said in a falsely innocent voice. "True story—ask Pilar why she threw that stuffed animal out."

Shaking her head at the picture that flashed in her mind, Lily stepped back onto the path. "God, are they all freaks in bed?"

Melody smiled as she pulled open the door to greenhouse three. "As my sweet mum would say, only the ones worth having."

Professor Sprout rose from where she'd been crouching at the base of a plant. "Is everyone here?" she asked cheerfully.

Keagan Cornfoot gestured toward the castle. "Thruston's on his way."

Professor Sprout brushed the dirt-peppered wisps of hair from her eyes. "We'll begin without him. Nothing new today, class. I have some aconite to be dried, but my sixth-years aren't ready yet. Let's have a quick review to avoid an unfortunate accident: aconite is what, Mr. Pye?"

"Aconite, monkshood, thung, or lycotonum, also known as Wolf's Bane, is a perennial that grows best in moist soil and shade. It's used in anti-werewolf mixtures, blessing potions, and flying ointments and is extremely poisonous," Rory Pye spoke readily.

Melody raised her eyebrows. "Armadillo molester," she mouthed, and this time Lily stifled a giggle.

Professor Sprout nodded vigorously. "Five points to Hufflepuff. And what will we be doing with it today, Mr. Thruston?"

Orsino Thruston, having just slipped in, was startled to have been called upon. He looked at the plant in her hand and took a moment to piece together an answer from the limited information he'd heard. "Uh, we're harvesting and drying the roots for use?" Sprout held up a pair of gloves, and he added quickly, "Wearing gloves and taking care not to have any direct contact with the plant."

The professor was smiling broadly. "And five points to Ravenclaw. This is why I love my N.E.W.T. students. Remember there is no antidote, so be alert. Four to a tray."

Lily and Melody knelt beside a tray, pulling on gloves while Orsino and Hestia Jones joined them on the other side. The stems rose just over their heads; the dark green glossy leaves and purple sepals bloomed in clusters obscuring the view between the pairs. The four of them worked in silence for a moment before Melody spoke to Hestia.

"I heard MacMillan was made Quidditch Captain."

"Yes," Hestia answered. "I'm so bitter," she added good-naturedly. "Is Potter going to put King up as Seeker again?"

"I think he may, but nothing's certain until try-outs."

That was when Lily began tuning the conversation out; it was her usual response to the topic of Quidditch. It was a defense mechanism, really—Melody could go on for hours. Still, her thoughts were seized by the mention of Potter.

She'd neglected to tell her friend the full scope of her eavesdropping experience. While the stag bit had made her laugh—a lot—mostly she'd been shaken. Because now…now there was every indication that he may be just as she'd always imagined. If he could make that timorous lump squeal, he must have something. This robbed her of a certain degree of comfort she'd always nursed. Through the years of her sexual awakening and in comparing notes with her friends, one thing seemed to brass through: disappointment. The daydreams about the boy were always dispelled by the reality with the boy. She'd assumed, hoped, that Potter would be no different. The idea that he might be truly capable of half the things he'd done to her in her fantasies was unsettling. Lily had found herself unable to meet his eyes that morning as he'd greeted her, pausing a chipper whistle while he sloppily knotted his necktie.

"Yeah, she looks awful doesn't she?"

Lily was startled out of her thoughts, eyes swinging to focus on Orsino. "I'm sorry?"

"I said she looks awful."

She followed his line of sight to the next tray. Directly where she had been staring off into space sat Maggie Bagnold. Lily suddenly understood that he'd thought she had been observing the dark-haired girl, a thought which was justified now that Lily took a good look at her.

"Yes. Yes, she does." Lily didn't think she'd ever seen Maggie without makeup—ever. The short unstyled curls swept up into a nondescript ponytail were just as disturbing. "What happened?"

Orsino raised his eyebrows. "You didn't hear? Black dumped her again, and this time it looks permanent. The girl hasn't taken it too well."

"Just gives her one more thing to throw tantrums over," Melody said caustically.

Lily and Orsino looked at her.

"Don't you feel even a little bit bad for her?" Hestia asked. "She's had her heart broken."

"Pfft, right," Melody scoffed.

"Slug's announced his first party," Orsino changed the subject quickly.

"I know," Lily replied hastily to make sure the new conversation took. "Davy asked me to go with him over breakfast."

"You're going with that moron?" Melody wrinkled her nose.

Lily glared at her friend.

"Okay, okay. I had my bitch porridge this morning. Sorry, it's just…you could do better."

"The boy you're referring to is taken and thinks he's a stag," she muttered so that only Melody could hear.

"Is it themed or just formal?" Hestia inquired.

"Just formal," Orsino answered.

Hestia considered. "I would think of maybe asking Black. He's sexy as sin and almost never single. But, you know, the ban."

Lily nodded. Both Sirius Black and James Potter had belonged to the Slug Club in their early days at Hogwarts…. Until Slughorn's biggest party of the year: the Halloween Masque. The guest of honor had been an author who wrote volumes about his excursions to Indo-Asia to investigate their ancient magics. The man was also a suspected Death Eater. Potter and Black, though simple first-years at the time, had got it into their heads that it might be funny to rig up a cursed mini-catapult that slung paint-filled balloons at the man every time he said the word "it" during his speech. Dumbledore had refused to expel the boys for their offense (though they were each given a month of detention), but Slughorn had summarily kicked them out of his club, and it was the rumored that neither of them had received anything above a passing mark in Potions since then. Needless to say, the boys were not allowed to set foot inside any soirée hosted by the Head of Slytherin House.

"Not to mention," Hestia continued, "the fact that Maggie might rip all my hair out and make me eat it."

"Or stick your fingers in Sycorax's Perennial." Melody inclined her head to the plant Professor Sprout had been tending when they'd first entered. The stem was big enough around at the base to be a tree, and the veins that rose out of the skin made the surface almost look like bark. Instead of branches and leaves, however, there was a single gigantic pink flower blooming at the top. All up the stem were holes the size of Sickles surrounded by tiny pointed teeth.

"That's a myth," Orsino said skeptically. "It couldn't bite off a finger, not really."

Melody raised her eyebrows challengingly and picked up an elongated rock from a nearby bed. Checking to be sure Sprout's attention was elsewhere, she reached out toward the giant plant. Slowly, in infinitesimal increments she moved the tip of the rock inside one of the many mouths of the plant. Immediately, the mouth crashed closed and squeezed like a sphincter over the rock. Melody let go as though she'd been burned and pulled back. After a moment of the plant straining vocally, the stone cracked and gave away. Split in two, what was left of the rock fell to the dirt, teeth marks visible around the broken edge.

Orsino just gaped for a long moment. "Holy shit."

Melody nodded. "It bleeds, too."

"Read a little over the summer again, did you?" Lily teased.

"Our N.E.W.T.s are this year, you know," she replied with playful earnestness.

"McGonagall!" Sprout called from the other side of the greenhouse. "Five points from Gryffindor."

Melody sighed. "Well…damn it."

* * *

"It doesn't seem to have been shelved in here by mistake," James called from the sliding ladder of one of the Head Dormitories' bookshelves.

Alida was lifting cushions and pillows from the sofas and chairs. "It must be here someplace."

"You're certain it's nowhere in Ravenclaw Tower?"

"I'm certain," she said with a barely audible crispness that let him know she was frustrated. "I brought it down here with me last night to study."

_Study. Right._ James rolled his eyes. He had spent the better part of lunch helping Alida search for her copy of _Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms_, which she insisted she must have left in his dormitory. He was beginning to doubt it. He didn't remember seeing her carry it in, but then he had pulled her up to his room only a minute or two into their study session.

Last night had been near perfect for them, a first in a great while. But it appeared that the pumpkin juice had already turned rancid. She had been short-tempered with him all day—in her own meek, nonverbal, Alida way. A year ago, the fact that she couldn't express anger in any manner that resembled itself had seemed rather endearing to him. Now it just made him want to shake her. He had no idea why she should be so miffed now when last night had been so hot. And, as always, she was barely communicating with him so he hadn't the faintest clue as to what had changed.

She looked at her watch. "Class begins in ten minutes."

James shrugged. "It's likely the library has a copy if you need it for the lesson."

Alida tossed the cushions aside and rubbed her temples. James waited in anticipation, hopeful that she would just snap and tell him what her problem was.

She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Could it be in your bedroom?"

"I doubt it." His impatience seeped into his tone.

But she was already climbing the stairs to his private chambers. He followed grudgingly, leaning against the doorway while she dug through the mess under his bed.

"Lida," he sighed. "I don't think you brought it up with you, pet."

She threw open his trunk and began rummaging through the disorganized jumble. "Where else could it be? I've taken apart Ravenclaw Tower, I've checked the Great Hall, been by every classroom I was in yesterday, the loos, the library—" Abruptly, she stopped frozen.

James pulled away from the doorjamb, curious to know what she had found to cause such a reaction. Slowly, stiffly, she straightened. In her hands was a pair of crimson and gold panties, a roaring Gryffindor lion embroidered on the bum. James almost laughed. He'd forgotten he had Integra Towler's knickers. Integra had been his Quidditch Captain early in his years at Hogwarts. And more. Sworn to silence, which lasted only until she left school, James had been shocked in comparing notes that she'd taken Sirius' virginity as well. What's more, she'd given Sirius a pair of her panties as a memento. _That_ was just…unfair. So James had stolen them. Sirius had stolen them back. From there things had gotten a little out of hand, what with the one-upmanship in both hiding places for the bit of fabric and retaliation for the finding of said place. James had stumbled upon Sirius' latest secret cubby over the holiday and taken the knickers. To his knowledge, his best mate had yet to discover they were missing. Which reminded him—he needed to find a place to stash them.

But something told him Alida wouldn't think the story was funny.

After a moment she spoke, her voice trembling. "So…it's true."

James was confused. "What's true?"

"Lily Evans. You're sleeping with her."

_What?_ "No," _God he wished but_, "no."

Alida dropped the panties back into the trunk. "Don't lieto me, James. I've seen the way the two of you look at each other. I've seen her come out of your rooms in the morning."

She was exaggerating, making conjectures that weren't true, but that was still pretty damning evidence—albeit a tad circumstantial. Lily had been in his rooms a few mornings, but it was all shop talk. And the looks…well, he didn't think he'd been ogling her any more than he always had, but perhaps his daily self-pleasure was starting to show. Those explanations were rational, and they were the truth, but would Alida believe him? More to the point, did it even make a difference? No, he hadn't cheated, but he'd fantasized about it every day.

Maybe it was just time to admit it—past time: he didn't want to be with Alida anymore. He would love to say that it had nothing to do with Lily, but that wouldn't be entirely true. Living with the girl he'd placed on a pedestal and lusted after so hotly it kept him up nights, reminded him of everything he wanted that Alida could not offer, of everything she was not. Reminded him that he had settled. Alida deserved more.

He inhaled to brace himself. "Lida," he began.

She could see what was coming and was already shaking her head, begging him to stop. But James didn't stop.

"I think this is over."

"O-over?" she breathed more than spoke.

He nodded. If last night hadn't been enough to salvage their relationship, he didn't see what could. "It's been coming for a while, I think. This—the way things are, it's not fair to you. And if you're making up books to have gone missing just so that you can search my room, we're obviously beyond communicating."

Alida nodded absently, tears brimming but not falling. An awkward moment seemed to stretch into the realm of minutes before she cleared her throat daintily and opened her mouth. She appeared to want to say something pertinent, but changed her mind and gave up. "Excuse me," she whispered. And as proudly and composedly as she could manage, she walked past him and through the portrait hole exit.

James followed her with his eyes. A brief urge seized him to go after her, but it faded. He stood there a moment, letting the gravity of what had just happened sink in. The amount of relief he felt unsettled him. He had really waited too long, and then some. He rubbed his eyes. Bugger—he was such a fucking arse.

"James!" a voice yelled from outside the portrait hole, accompanied by a pounding knock. "James!"

Brows furrowed, he moved quickly down the stairs and to the latch. Standing outside the entrance was Remus, panting as though he had run a fair distance.

"James, it's Sirius and Snape—in the dungeons." He swallowed in his panting, "I think it's going to be bad."

James didn't hesitate climbing through the portal and shutting it behind him before heading out at a dead run. Sirius and that stringy twerp Snivellus getting into a fight was nothing new, but this would be something more. It was a few months in the making, ever since Snape began mentoring Sirius' idiot younger brother. James knew his friend was just itching for the opportunity to humiliate the bastard that was leading the impressionable Regulus even further down the wrong path. Normally, James would step back or chip in, but neither was an option at this juncture: he was Head Boy, had given Dumbledore his word that his bullying days were over, and Sirius' record was so marred that one more fight would lead to an expulsion.

Remus was doing his best to keep up, but he'd already sprinted the trip once and James was in much better shape than he. James didn't have time to wait for him.

"Where did you say it was?"

"The dungeon corridor outside Slughorn's office."

James silently cursed. What could Sirius be thinking? Of all the professors in school, Slug was the least likely to cut them a break—especially if one of his pet students were involved.

"I'll see you there," James called back to his friend, leaving him behind and charging at full speed.

In the upper levels and side halls there were few enough people to dash with all the speed he could muster, but as he got nearer to the Great Hall, he found he needed to weave through groups of traveling and loitering students. It slowed him, but the crush on the staircase down to the dungeons brought him to a standstill. Students had gathered around to watch the confrontation, blocking the hallway completely.

As James pushed his way through the crowd impatiently, he could hear Sirius and Snape snapping at each other profanely. The curse words became curses just as James cleared the horde.

"_Incarcerous_!" Sirius shouted, pointing his wand at Snape.

"_Furnunculus_!" Snape retaliated before the spell had fully exited Sirius' mouth.

James saw a third bolt of energy enter the fray and hit Snape just after Sirius' binding spell. Snape flew back brutally against the wall, his skull cracking against the stone. James' stomach gave a sickly roll as he watched Snape slide down the wall unconscious, a small trail of blood painting the gray rock.

"_Finite Incantatem_!" a voice boomed from behind, and James turned to see Dumbledore approaching. The Headmaster's face was rigid and alarmingly angry. Students scattered in all directions, suddenly remembering that they were due for class.

When the hallway cleared, James could see a boil-speckled Sirius being nursed by Peter. James wanted to go to Sirius and ask if he was all right, but couldn't seem to move. A purple-faced Slughorn strode to Snape's unconscious side to evaluate the damage. After a brief assessment, and vanishing the cords that bound the boy, he turned to Dumbledore.

"Looks as though he's had a hard bump on the head, Albus."

Dumbledore nodded. "Poppy should be here in a moment." Slowly, with so much gravity James felt it in his chest, Dumbledore turned to face his new Head Boy. "Please, tell me why this happened."

"I…" James faltered under Dumbledore's disappointed gaze.

"He had nothing to do with it." Sirius was picking himself off the ground, using his sleeve to wipe blood and puss from a popped pustule on his chin. "He just got here—running like a cockatrice to stop me, I expect."

"Indeed?" Slughorn asked, skeptical.

"That's right." Sirius stood firm. "The fight was between Snape and me—and then Peter." The plump boy went a little pale, but Sirius pushed on. "I hit Snape with a binding spell, he hit me with boils. Then Peter tried to disarm Snape."

"Disarm him?" Slughorn asked, holding up two fingers wet with Snape's blood.

All eyes turned to Peter, who squeaked under the pressure. "I missed," he supplied thinly.

Attention was momentarily diverted by the arrival of Madam Pomfrey. She paused, seizing Sirius' chin to give his furuncle-covered skin a glance. She then huffed her disapproval and moved on to Snape. While she was conducting her examination, Slughorn continued the interrogation.

"Who attacked first?"

James glanced at Sirius and saw the gears in his head turning. He could tell his friend was weighing the odds; Snape was unconscious, Snape was also grossly unpopular. It was unlikely Sirius would be caught in a lie if he claimed self-defense.

"Sirius cast first," James felt the words coming out of his mouth. If Sirius perjured himself and Dumbledore found out, he would be expelled for certain.

His friend glared at him.

"This one needs to be taken up to the Hospital Wing immediately," Pomfrey announced, referring to Snape and already conjuring a floating stretcher.

Dumbledore finally spoke. "Horace, help Poppy move young Mr. Snape up to the Hospital Wing. Mr. Black, Mr. Pettigrew, follow me to my office."

"But, Albus, his boils," Pomfrey protested.

"I'll take care of them," Dumbledore assured her. Turning to James he spoke quietly, though everyone heard. "I'll see you in my office after classes."

James nodded, not quite able to stop his shoulders from drooping under the Headmaster's scrutiny. He'd been Head Boy for less than a week and already he was being called into Dumbledore's office.

After Dumbledore had disappeared down the corridor in the opposite direction with Sirius and Peter in tow, Slughorn helped Madam Pomfrey angle the floating stretcher up the winding staircase with James following.

Slughorn scrutinized James. "You know, boy, if you hadn't rushed to help, you wouldn't be involved," he said in a tone that tapped at condescending.

James fought the urge to glower at his professor. He must not have succeeded for Slughorn spread his hands defensively, eyes glittering in his amusement at James' anger.

"I'm just reminding you that your friend is old enough to make his own decisions and suffer his own consequences. It's not your responsibility to hold Black's lead."

"Yes, it is," a third voice announced.

They had cleared the top of the stairs and James saw Remus waiting there, clearly having overheard a great deal. He was not out of breath, so James deduced that his friend had opted to wait out the meting of punishment. James knew that Remus harbored a degree of bitterness where Sirius was concerned, but he was shocked at how much permeated those three words.

Even so, James could not deny the truth of them. Turning to Slughorn he shrugged his resignation. "Yes, it is."

* * *

Lily exited Divination with a yawn. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep since the start of term, but that was nothing unusual. Pilar was beside her talking to Davy Gudgeon about their advanced tarot reading assignment, but Lily wasn't really listening. She was already dreading the work—four rolls of parchment on the suit of Cups, due Friday.

"I have two extra rolls because I was late," Davy was saying.

"You and half the class," Pilar responded. "What happened?"

Davy shrugged. "Oh, nothing much. Black and Snape were dueling in the dungeons—nothing anyone hasn't seen before."

Lily's ears perked up. "What?"

"Yeah, Snape zapped Black with boils—it was hilarious."

"What about Snape?" Lily pressed. She knew he often came off the worse in his encounters with Potter and Black.

"I don't know, it wasn't really clear. But I think he would have ended up in the Hospital Wing—cracked his head against the wall something nasty." They reached the top of the stairs that led down to the sixth floor. "I'm heading to the library to get started while I have a free period. Lily…" he tried and failed to get her attention, "you have one too, don't you? Do you want to come?" he asked hopefully.

"N-no," Lily answered absently, too preoccupied with getting away to see Severus. "I need to—" Pilar was looking at her, smirking expectantly, while Davy looked confused, "—go."

She took off down the stairs moving as quickly as she could without appearing suspicious. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and it seemed to take ages before she arrived outside the double doors. Pushing through, she almost bumped into Slughorn on his way out. He didn't seem surprised to see her.

After cursory, awkward greetings, Lily swallowed heavily and asked, "How is he?"

Slughorn smiled kindly at her. "He'll be up and about in no time." He stepped to the side, and Lily saw Severus lying unconscious on a bed. She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat at the sight.

"I'll have a word with Madam Pomfrey about giving you a few minutes with him," Slughorn continued.

Lily nodded and dragged her eyes away, up to her professor's sympathetic face. "Thank you," she whispered before moving to the bedside.

Reaching her destination, she stopped, sliding her bag off her shoulder and dropping it almost dazedly. Glancing about quickly to see that there was no one there, she took an extra precaution and pulled the curtain surrounding the bed closed so that they had a semblance of privacy. She dragged the chair nearer the bed and lowered herself into it heavily.

Lily was so tired of seeing him hurt, battered, beaten. His face was paler than usual and dark circles were drawn under his eyes. Tenderly, she raised her hand and swept a stray lock of hair from his cheek. She knew how hard he was, yet now he looked so fragile, so defenseless. She took his hand in hers and pulled it close. That bastard Black—she would see that he got more than a slap on the wrist for this.

Her thumb, stroking the back of his hand absently, brushed something beneath his sleeve. She lifted the fabric of his robes and unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt to see the bandage he had worn a few nights ago when they'd met in the dungeons. He'd sworn it was nothing, and that his father hadn't caused it. She didn't quite believe him. Curiosity and concern formed a partnership against her respect for his wish that she not examine it. After all, she had nursed several of his wounds and hurts before. She didn't like that this one was being hidden from her as though he couldn't trust her, as though he had never let her in.

Glancing at his face, tranquil and inert, Lily hardened her resolve and began to unwrap the bandages. She did so slowly, so as not to aggravate any sores that lay beneath. She steeled herself for the worst, but still was not prepared for what she found. Branded black to his skin was the image of a skull, a snake slithering from its mouth grotesquely.

Lily froze. Her mind refused for a moment to acknowledge the sight before her. She had not been raised in the wizarding world, but she knew _that_ symbol. The hand holding his arm began to tremble, and she felt sick to her stomach. It was ripped from her grasp as it's body bolted up into a sitting position.

"I told you it was not my father," a voice hoarse from just waking growled.

She looked up to see Severus glaring at her.

She tried to form coherent words but it took a moment, and even then she couldn't manage a full sentence. "You-you're a…"

His face closed off all emotion and there was just a brittle frost of nothingness. "Yes."

Lily swallowed. She knew the sorts of people he consorted with—the influence they had over him. "Did they make you?"

"No. I chose this," he answered evenly. "For you."

She was appalled. "For me?"

He nodded. "I will be able to keep you safe now."

The words wouldn't come. He…actually believed that? He couldn't—Severus was too empirical to lose sight of logic, let alone discard it completely, and yet he seemed serious. She stared at him dumbly, but he understood what was going on in her head before she did. He understood that this was the end of what was left of their friendship, of even their brewing experiments. And Lily realized he'd known that full well when he had signed up. He'd done it anyway, convincing himself of the deluded rationale that it was for the greater good. _Her_ greater good.

A choked noise caught in her throat.

"You need time. I knew you would," he spoke as he rewrapped his bandage. "Soon you will see that I made the right decision."

She snatched up her bag and ran from the room.


	5. King of the Forest

**05**

**King of the Forest**

"Even after Hooch weighed in, the ponce was trying to tell me the Cleansweep Four was a better model than the Comet 220," Sirius ranted.

James shook his head. "Don't know why you care. Robbins has always been a bit of an idiot."

"But he should know better—the berk has played Quidditch for five years."

"On a Shooting Star."

"Yeah," Sirius made a face, "what is that?"

"Idiot." James repeated. "Seems rather silly to me, the two of you having the argument in the first place. He doesn't ride a Cleansweep and you don't ride a Comet."

Sirius shrugged. "Obviously. Nimbus is the best—why would I buy a bleeding Comet?"

James ducked a root and passed his lit wand from one hand to the other to get a better view of the path ahead as Sirius went off again about tailwinds and deteriorating Braking Charms. They were walking down the long tunnel from the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack. It was the eighth of September—the full moon, and it was less than an hour till sundown. This conversation was wearing on his nerves. He felt like he was going into a potentially disastrous situation blind, and the person who could help in that was beside him making banal conversation.

He didn't know what worried him more: that Sirius had not disclosed the instigation for his ill-conceived fight with Snape, or that he had not told James why and under what conditions Dumbledore had refrained from expelling him. Both holes in his knowledge left James twitchy at best. It was, after all, a full moon, and he and his closest friends were preparing for an excursion that was not only against Hogwarts rules, but blatantly illegal as well. Both Dumbledore and Snape knew of Remus' condition, and both would have very good reason for keeping a close watch on Sirius about now. This was a dangerous night to be heading into the forest exploring new territory, and James had half a mind to call it off. But the fact remained that he could not, at least not completely.

One of the unforeseen consequences of their monthly excursions had been that Remus' werewolf form had become adept at pressing the knot at the base of the Whomping Willow, and could now let himself out. Sirius and James had to be there to keep Remus in line, or there would be a violent predator on the loose in Hogsmeade. Of course, the Marauders didn't have to go out tonight. They could settle down inside the Shrieking Shack and wait for dawn.

Ordinarily, James would think that his friends would never consider such a suggestion, but Peter and Remus were of no more a mind to be expelled than he was.

He stopped abruptly. "Sirius, what happened with Dumbledore?"

Sirius picked up the conversation thread immediately, as though he'd known the question was coming. "We talked."

James glowered at his friend. "About what?"

"About what happened."

"Why didn't he expel you?"

The taller boy's eyes narrowed.

"Damn it, Sirius, he was supposed to—I'm grateful he didn't, but he was supposed to."

"That's a hell of a thing to say to your best mate."

James raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I just need to know what kind of odds we're playing here."

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. "No one's going to be watching us tonight."

That reassurance was none at all. "Why's that?"

"Because that Hufflepuff idiot Fitzpatrick got a mind to throw a Bacchanal tonight, and someone is going to tip off Sprout about half of two."

James crossed his arms and leaned back against the dirt wall. "I'm fairly certain that breaks clauses of our code of ethics."

"Serves them right for doing this thing spur of the moment and using us as their suppliers. Wormtail and I had a bitch of a time trying to get them the number of bottles they wanted in the timeframe they gave us, and when we made the delivery, those damned badgers only had a fraction of the blunt and wanted to set up _payment installments_," Sirius was clearly disgusted. "Besides, I knew we'd be running a risk tonight, so I figured it was their cocks or ours. Don't worry, I used a fourth year lackey so it won't be traced back to us."

James' jaw was tight. He doubted that was entirely true, but he didn't voice so. It was a foolish and botched handling of the situation to say the least, but pissing off the Hufflepuffs was the least of their worries just now.

"Convince me Sirius, convince me that Dumbledore is not going to be keeping tabs on us to make sure you behave yourself."

Sirius shook his head, "I can't do that." When James pushed away from the wall and began to walk again, he blurted, "It's just a last chance."

James turned around, "What?"

"You know Dumbledore," his friend smiled wryly, "he just gave me a last chance. That's all."

James groaned.

"It's why I set up the Hufflepuffs. The teachers will have their hands so full they won't even notice we're gone."

"We're not setting up the Hufflepuffs," James said firmly. "We'll go out tonight because it will be the last time, but we're going to be back by half of two and we're going to send Peter to stop your fourth year from tipping off Sprout. Things are going to change. From here on out, our full moon excursions are finished and our liquor smuggling business is closed—did you even consider of how much trouble _we_ would be in if the Hufflepuffs reported us in retaliation?" Sirius had the decency to look somewhat abashed, but he was also on the brink of protest so James pushed on. "None of us can afford this kind of risk anymore. You'll be expelled, Peter is on his last chance as well, Remus is here out of the goodness of Dumbledore's heart and purse, and I'll be stripped of my post as Head Boy." James shook his head sadly, "We had a good run mate, but our nine lives are up."

* * *

Lily yawned. Merlin, she was bored. And tired. Her regular start of term insomnia had set in and she'd hardly had a decent night's sleep in over a week. She didn't know if it was sleeping in a bed that wasn't _her_ bed, if it was classroom performance anxiety, or if it was the way the clean country air felt so odd after a summer of living in the city, but she always had trouble sleeping at Hogwarts for the first month or so. Of course, the fact that she was obsessed with her dorm mate was scarcely helping matters.

He was always disheveled in the evenings—necktie loose, or off; robes nowhere to be seen; shirtsleeves rolled up. Sometimes he wore a jumper, sometimes not. She knew nothing in that was unique or even interesting. Most students' uniforms fell apart toward the end of the day. But watching him loosen this or unfasten that was somehow utterly fascinating.

He would get so absorbed while reading his assignments, his Transfiguration textbook particularly, and his fingers would roam to his unkempt hair. She used to think that his habit of rumpling his hair was just misguided narcissism, but it appeared now that it was unconscious, too. And so very sexy. His lithe muscles relaxed and outlined beneath his clothes, his fingers in his bed hair. And he had the oddest belt buckle—something was written on it, engraved in Latin. The metal was thin and the writing was too tiny to read, but that didn't stop her from staring at it in an attempt to interpret it.

And he was newly single, as Melody reminded her at least twice a day. She didn't need to be reminded—the thought presented itself often enough on its own. But, really, none of this tawdry, dizzying lust changed the fact that she didn't actually like him as a person.

Next to James, however, Davy was looking less appealing than usual. She had let him take her to Slughorn's party, and he was attentive and sweet, but she was less interested in him than she was before the date. Sitting next to him now she was acutely reminded of why.

They were going over their Divination assignment, and he was making a very insightful argument about the meaning of the Chariot coupled with a reverse Death. But he was picking at a wart on his hand absently while he spoke. She was having a hard time not looking at it and an even harder time not thinking about it. She knew it made her shallow, but it bothered her.

She nodded her head in polite agreement and furtively glanced at the clock hanging above Madam Pince's desk as he launched into a discussion of the Empress and the Hanged Man and how he thought implications of their traditional reading were outdated. She didn't used to be shallow, she thought to herself defensively. She'd dated blokes all over the spectrums of too tall to too short, too fat to too thin, too pasty to too freckled. She'd lost her virginity to a boy who thought hair pomade was a substitute for a shampoo for Merlin's sake. But picking at warts till they oozed during a study date was just…gross.

Besides, she was feeling a bit burned. If the ones who were very smart and interesting, who seemed to like and trust you, who seemed to need and care for you could turn out to be Death Eaters, what was the point? If she was going to enter into an ill-advised relationship, why not choose the bloke who made her knees knock?

Or she'd just been listening to Melody more than she should have been over the last two weeks. Her friends knew that she and Severus had fallen out even worse than they had before, though she hadn't told over what, and Lily had to admit that between Melody and the evil little voice in her own head, she was fast being persuaded to give James a go. A very core part of her still balked at the thought, but as a rebound relationship…. She would bet Potter could get her over that bastard fairly quickly. And it would drive Severus crazy. The trouble was she didn't know if James was still interested in her. He was on the rebound as well, and he'd been seen around school with no fewer than five girls over the mere days since his split with that Ravenclaw non-person. He didn't seem to be taking the parting hard, and he didn't seem on the hunt for a relationship either. Which was perfect.

God she felt bitter. But finding out the jackass you'd slept with and comforted was a supporter of the darkest wizard of the day could have that effect, she supposed. She had wrestled mightily with what she would do with the information that Severus had signed up to kill and to torture in the name of all that was bigoted and immoral—should she tell Dumbledore? Severus was of age and could make his own decisions and she wasn't a rat, but she was worried about the safety of the other students. Perhaps Severus wouldn't start his work as a Death Eater until after leaving school, but then, perhaps not. If he was here with an assignment and someone was hurt or killed she couldn't help but feel that it would be on her head.

So she had gone to the Headmaster's office. When Dumbledore had looked up at her with his half-moon spectacles, smiling kindly, it momentarily invigorated her and she launched into her report, feeling safe and at ease. She didn't know how the old man could do that, but his simple presence was enough to make even the direst of circumstances seem manageable.

"Sir, I have discovered a student that bears the Dark Mark. I wouldn't have come except that I am worried about the safety of the student body and of the young man in question. He is—_was_ a dear friend, and one with whom I have studied since my first year. I—I do not wish him harm or expulsion, but I…." As she neared the revelation, she faltered. Her loyalty to Severus was too instinctual.

She had been struggling with how to finish when she actually looked up from her shoes to Dumbledore's face. There was a shrewd spark in his eyes and all at once Lily realized that he knew. He knew exactly whom she was reporting as a Death Eater.

Just in case she was uncertain, the Headmaster spoke softly. "I am aware of your Potions partner's extracurricular commitments. No harm or expulsion will come to him, but I will speak with him."

She had sighed in relief and asked to be excused. Dumbledore nodded, and she had retreated. She didn't know what sat with her more uneasily—that she wasn't quite as loyal as she'd always thought, or that she wasn't completely able to set aside her loyalties for the bigger picture.

But now that she was shallow, did it really matter? That was the question. Or maybe the question was what had Davy asked her that he now seemed to expect a response?

"Lily?" Davy's tentative voice prodded. His expression had a pending quality, as though he didn't know whether to be annoyed or concerned.

"I'm sorry," she laughed apologetically. "I think I should perhaps call it a night. I'm dozing right off. That was very interesting—what you said about the Hanged Man and…um the sexism and astaticism of traditional interpretations."

Davy was starting to look more offended than understanding. "That was five minutes ago."

She started gathering her books. "Davy, I'm really very sorry, but I haven't been sleeping well."

"Still?" a voice asked from behind.

Lily startled and turned her head toward the sound. Melody and Hestia were approaching in high spirits and they plopped down in chairs opposite the couple.

"Yes, still," Lily confirmed.

Melody dropped her bag to the floor. "That's too bad."

"Where have you two been?" she changed the subject.

"Down at the pitch," Hestia grinned mischievously, "spying on the Ravenclaw tryouts."

Melody rolled her eyes. "Fat waste of time it was, too. I'm less intimidated by Vail now than I was last week when I saw him loose his grip and drop that compass off the Astronomy Tower."

"I still say the best was when Mears flew into the goal post," Hestia laughed. Illustrating with her hands, she added, "Broom twigs flying."

Melody was giggling now, too. "I haven't seen a thing like it since Potter was showing off doing handstands on his broom and flew into the stands."

"Excuse me ladies," Davy rose grabbing up his books. "I think I will adjourn to the common room," and nodding his head, "goodnight."

As he stiffly walked from the library, Melody sniggered. "He's got his panties up his crack."

"He was sharing some thoughts with me and my mind wandered off." She yawned, "Merlin, I'm knackered."

Her friend seemed surprised. "You are? I thought you were just trying to make an exit."

"Well, yes, obviously. But I truly haven't been sleeping well."

"We can't have that." She leaned down and began fishing through her bag.

Lily scowled. Melody could be so nasty sometimes. Sitting up triumphant, she placed a tiny green bottle before Lily.

"What is that?"

"It's a sleeping potion."

"I can brew my own, thank you."

"Yes, but you don't."

Lily shrugged. "I just don't think I need it."

Melody raised her eyebrows, "Not even to be certain that you're rested for that Charms evaluation tomorrow?"

Lily eyed the bottle, sighing her defeat. "All right, I'll drink it."

* * *

James would never admit as much to his friends, but he didn't care for jaunts into the forest. The claustrophobic in him hated the paradox. The air was so clear and new, each breath completely separate of the one before it. Light breezes made their way through the trees. The air could almost make one believe that he was out in the open. But the trees were a maze, the canopy a ceiling. Around the next trunk could be anything, perhaps hostile. While the risk and danger appealed to his reckless nature, the constant tension of it became exhausting. And the tension tonight was particularly acute.

He couldn't shake the sick feeling in his stomach that this excursion was going to turn out badly—worse he seemed to be the only one worried. James would hope that Remus at least would share his concern, but the whole werewolf metamorphosis thing seemed to eradicate his friend's cautious nature.

James caught the first whiff of sage and mallowsweet in the air and knew they were getting close. His hooves followed the centaur-made path easily, the cruel joke of transforming into a stag being that the animal's eyes were better than his own.

There was a loud crash of disturbed bushes and growling behind him. James weightily craned his neck to look back, the rat seated on his head clutching in a frantic way at his antlers for support at the sudden movement. Remus' gray fur stood out enough for James to see the struggle, but Sirius was almost invisible outside of direct moonlight.

James watched the two growl and circle each other for a moment, willing them to disperse on their own. A snarl from Remus, however, was enough to convince him that such was unlikely. He opened his gummy jaws and let out a thunderous mewling bark—a truly odd and disquieting noise they'd all laughed over in the early days after the transformations were first achieved.

The two stopped immediately, peaking their ears in his direction. His resentment plain, the black dog trotted to the stag's side and sat obediently. James found himself annoyed with Sirius. Though they were all affected by the animal personalities of their respective transmogrifications, Remus' nature by far was the most altered. In fact, James could freely say that he had never recognized his friend in the eyes of the werewolf. Sirius should know better than to taunt him, even if it was simply a mongrel need to play. Still, James found himself grateful for the canine nature his friend took on as well. Sirius was much more manageable—in fact downright deferential—as a dog.

They were near the shrine now and James was itching to get this all over with. They had already been delayed by a dog's compulsion to chase unicorns (something James should have predicted as unicorn tipping was a favorite pastime of Sirius'). Setting a lumbering but steady pace, James once again began the trek to the shrine. He heard and felt Sirius fall into step beside him and Remus reluctantly began to follow from behind.

All at once, there was light ahead—the light of a bonfire. It rose up almost above the canopy of the trees gracefully, the bright heat of it sharp against the black sky. For a moment James wondered whether or not they were too late, if the Centaurs had begun their stargazing early, but then they reached the empty clearing.

It was a wide gully, with strangely contorted trees forming an unnaturally perfect circle around the fire, which rose off a small cliff hanging over the running water. The air was charged and James felt his muscles tense. They should not be here—the human in him knew it and the stag in him knew it. This place was private, sacred.

Apparently the others were not so affected, as James saw Sirius and Remus dart forward and felt Peter slipping down from his head to do his own exploration. James didn't move, rather watched his friends rush to satisfy their curiosity. He found his eyes scanning the trees around the gully for signs of movement, appointing himself lookout—if he judged the moon's place in the sky correctly, it was very near midnight and they hadn't much time left.

So intent was he at watching the trees across from him, occasionally distracted by Sirius running circles around the shine in panting delight, that he did not hear hooves approach directly to his right. The Centaur spoke before James even noticed he was there.

"You are no stag."

Startled, James' eyes snapped to the speaker. It was a young colt, palomino in coloring, with expressive, curious eyes. He seemed more puzzled than angry.

James, of course, could not reply.

The Centaur studied him intently. "Venus smiles on you, but Pluto is angry. That is a troublesome combination. Mars will be caught between and not know whose part to take." The fair-colored quadruped looked up at the sky. "Something tells me, however, that you are not the sort to care. So long as you get what you want.

"You and your companions do not mean harm, but you are causing it. The moon is bright tonight and you are out of time."

James stared at the Centaur for a long moment before the more prominent of the double meanings in that last statement became clear to him. A shiver of panic seizing him, James sounded his call, loud and hideous, to rally his friends back to him. Luckily his mates did not hesitate and changed course immediately, running toward him. Sirius paused for a moment to sweep Peter up in his jaws just as James could see the first of the congregation approaching.

Utilizing the stag's quick reflexes and speed for the first time that night, James turned and began galloping down the path. Padfoot and Moony were faster than the Centaurs and could dart about in a way the half-men, half-horses could not. James had no such advantage with his current anatomy and needed all the head start he could get.

The Marauders had entered the forest before James heard the angry shouts of the Centaurs and then the pounding hooves of pursuit. Remus passed him, his muscular legs propelling him powerfully. James cursed inwardly. Of all of them, Remus had the most power and stamina, and if he used it to distract and bait, they would all be able to escape easily. But the werewolf didn't think that way, and James lacked the articulation and influence to ask him to do so.

James was just thinking that Sirius should have also passed him by now when he heard the yelping cry of a dog in pain. Whirling about, disregarding the stag's instinct to run, James headed toward the noise.

He couldn't actually see the tangle well, but he could hear Sirius growling dangerously. There were two Centaurs and each was trying to stomp the dog with his hooves, but Padfoot was just swift enough to avoid them. Realizing that the ability to growl and bark meant that Sirius had dropped Peter, James lowered his head and rushed one of the attackers.

The Centaur brought up his staff just in time to avoid the stag's antlers. The pain that cracked through James' skull at the blow was easily ignored with the amount of adrenaline pounding in his system. He pushed hard into the attack then flipped his head to the right without warning, twisting the weapon from the Centaur's hands. Lowering his head, he charged again. This time his opponent lost his footing and tumbled off the path to avoid the blow.

A distinctly feral cry sounded just before Remus assaulted the other Centaur. James readied himself to join the fray when he felt something clawing up his leg. He shied skittishly and stomped his hooves panicked before looking down to see a trembling, wide-eyed rat holding on for dear life. James felt relief wash over him as he let the small animal climb his body—at least Peter had found him. They needed to get out of here. As soon as Wormtail was securely seated, James barked and took off toward the way they had come in.

There was some scuffling and yelling behind him, and he could not hear Remus and Sirius run, but the loud hooves resumed their pursuit so James felt confident they were following. Sure enough, it wasn't long before both moved into his peripheral sight. His relief was cut short, however, when he noticed the way that Sirius was sprinting. It was slower than usual and off-balance. It was difficult to make out all of his limbs in the limited light, but James soon realized that his friend was running on three legs, not four, and that a hind leg was hanging limply behind.

_Fuck._ The Centaurs had sent a pair after them rather than a mob, which meant they probably cared more about chasing them off than any kind of bloody retribution, but James imagined after that last tangle, they would want to get a few good kicks in. Now, with Sirius' broken leg, their chances of getting caught went up exponentially. Thinking quickly and cursing yet again, James made a decision he hoped he wouldn't regret.

Rallying the others to his call once more, he changed directions and led the group straight toward the Acromantula nest. They would be the ones taking the spiders by surprise this time and the Centaurs would not follow them into the territory. James hoped. True enough, when their pursuers realized their new destination, he heard them peel off and slowly the hoof-beats faded. But now…now they had other things to worry about.

James could already see webbing coating the trees, reflecting the moonlight in a way that would have been pretty if it weren't so sinister. He veered the course—there was no reason to go through the heart of the nest, and instead angled their path to charge through the fringes. Hopefully this way would avoid webs massive enough to hold game as large as they. This path also cut a full hour and a half off their return to Hogwarts—they just had to survive it. James was already beginning to tire, and he knew from the wheezing pants beside him that Sirius was as well, but he found a reserve of energy at the scuttling and stirring in the treetops.

Enormous spiders were dropping to the forest floor ahead of them on the path and James had to fight the stag's instincts to panic at the spectacle. They were not full grown Acromantulas but they were taller than he was. Their front pinchers, wet with venom, were sparking flecks of the sparse light, and James lowered his head to charge. He peeked up only just in time to dodge the spray of venom shot his way and gored the hairy body. It wasn't much further, only a mile or so to the Hogwarts grounds from here. And they were faster than these things—they had escaped them once before already.

He stomped over another spider, this one bursting wetly beneath his hooves, and James felt the insides splashing his legs. Nearly there—they were nearly out of the territory. He repeated the mantra over and over in his head.

He didn't even notice when the Acromantulas had given up their pursuit, just kept running, his friends keeping pace beside him. The sight of the caretaker's hut was a relief so massive his entire stomach unclenched and he had to fight to keep from collapsing. After they cleared the trees, James slowed to a trot.

With plodding steps, an exhausted stag, dog and werewolf made their way to the Whomping Willow. Peter slid down James' leg, scampered forward to press the knot for them, and the trapdoor fell open. This close to the school, Remus could smell human flesh and whimpered longingly at the castle, but James and Sirius managed to nudge him toward the hole. It seemed to take an eternity to reach the Shrieking Shack, and they were only just able to herd Moony into the cupboard with the thickest door. Sirius nuzzled the latch into place, then crumpled to the floor in a heap.

Closing his eyes and concentrating on his human body, James experienced himself getting lighter and sorer in moments. Feeling his hands become human against the dusty wooden floor, James immediately reached for his wand where it had been left in a pile with his glasses and Invisibility Cloak. He summoned the concentration to cast the most powerful locking charms he could manage at the door to keep the werewolf confined for the time being.

Soon after the magical locks clicked into place, he and Peter were helping a human and injured Sirius up onto a nearby stuffed chair. The leg of his trousers was fast darkening with blood and when James lifted the fabric to get a good look his stomach turned at the picture of his friend's bone protruding from his skin in a jagged break. James looked up at Sirius and saw that he had stuffed a wad of his shirtsleeve in his mouth to keep from crying out.

Running his fingers through his hair, his hand finding a fair number of leaves and twigs, James conjured a floating stretcher. "Wormtail, get Padfoot to Pomfrey. I'll stay with Moony."

Peter's eyes were wide and the poor bloke was still trembling. "But I thought she said she wouldn't treat us anymore."

James scoffed, "Do you really believe she'll turn this wanker away with his leg this fucked?"

Sirius pulled the fabric from his mouth and managed to speak, his voice strained from the pain, "Old bird loves me, remember? I'll charm her knickers wet and she'll have me fit to face McGonagall by morning."

James knew part of that was just bravado to reassure the near hysterical Wormtail, but it was no secret that Sirius was Pomfrey's favorite. He nodded in agreement, "Just get him there. Then you have to find Summers and call him off reporting to Sprout—don't forget that last part."

There was a loud thrashing in the cupboard. Remus smelled not only humans, but human blood.

"Hurry," James spurred, assisting Sirius to the stretcher. He angled it down into the trapdoor with Peter's help. As the two began to disappear into the dark of the tunnel, he remembered something.

"Oi!" he called, groping for Sirius' two-way mirror and tossing it easily so that it landed on his mate's stomach. "Let me know when you're one piece again."

"Fuck yourself, Prongs," Sirius called back, but James knew it was the pain talking. Mostly.

He closed up the trapdoor, locking it as extensively as he had the cupboard, then sighed and took inventory of himself. His legs and arms were covered in Acromantula guts and his right leg was throbbing. First casting a cleansing spell on his clothing to get rid of the worst of the acidic fluids and flesh, he examined a long gash down his leg. It was bleeding earnestly, but he was fine.

Sagging against the wall in relief that the real danger of night was over, James just let himself breathe. His limp limbs ached now that the adrenaline was gone—he was going to hurt for days.

After a moment of listening to Remus' thrashing, James knew that he had to let the werewolf out or he would start tearing at his own flesh. Drawing his wand, he released the locking charms and transformed back into the stag.

* * *

Lily was standing on a wall. Her feet were bare and the gray stone beneath them was uncomfortably frozen. The wall seemed to go on forever in both directions, though it was difficult to tell with the oppressive mist curling in waves over the dull surface. In fact, she couldn't see much in any direction, and a glance up at the sky revealed no sun. There was water—on either side of the wall. She couldn't see it, but she could hear it, sloshing and writhing against the stone. She knew without investigating that it was icy cold.

She shivered, and when she looked down she realized she was in her bikini. Her nipples stood erect with her gooseflesh under the cherry-bunch pattern on the white fabric, and she wrapped her arms around them modestly. It seemed silly because she was clearly isolated, but she knew that she was not alone.

Walking, she understood, would make her warmer, but both directions seemed equally pointless. Nonetheless, she decided after shivering for a moment, it was too cold to just stand there. She peeled her foot from the frost beneath it and took a tentative step.

The water to the side of her splashed in a way that clearly betrayed the presence of an animal. Lily stiffened, swallowing hard. Whatever was out there did not mean her well, she knew it—her gut twisted with it.

Before she knew it, she began running, fleeing along the top of the wall, the mist parting before her. She could hear the monster pull itself up onto the path and begin to chase her. The stone beneath her feet shuddered and quaked with its approach, and she became more desperate. But no matter how she pushed herself, she felt as though she were moving impossibly slow. The monster was gaining on her.

In front of her on the path a tangled root rose out of the gray stone and Lily's hope sank. She was going to trip; it was fated. She caught her foot in the root, and fell forward onto the hard stone. Her arms flew out to catch herself, but it didn't hurt much and she was too preoccupied by the thought of the pursuing monster. Turning her body over, she faced her attacker.

It wasn't quite what she had expected. A scaly, swamp-slimy alligator stood on its hind legs patiently, watching her with dead, intelligent eyes. Dilatorily, shakily, she picked herself up and stood, studying the large reptile. There was a dirty bandage on its left arm and black ooze was bleeding through. Most odd of all was that now she was facing the threat, she was no longer so much afraid as angry. She felt a mighty urge to give this alligator a swift kick.

The reptile seemed to sense her change in mood and it may have been her imagination, but it grinned down at her insolently, cruelly, then opened its jaws and snapped them at her. Lily jumped, but refused to back down. She hissed at the alligator like a cat.

It seemed to enjoy that, and snapped at her again. She was preparing to hiss in return when the mist behind her challenger parted in a blur and a body slammed into hers.

All at once she had the sensation of flying. Lily didn't like flying. She clamped her arms around the body that held her with vice-like intensity. Looking down she saw mostly mist, but there were murky waves passing beneath as well. They were far enough below that if she dropped, the fall might kill her. Turning her face away she buried it into the chest of her captor. Merlin, she hated heights—and she couldn't swim. The air whooshing over her was making her ill. Oh bloody, bloody hell, she was going to die. She was squirming against the strong body holding her, trying to get deeper and safer into his arms. She felt a scream building in her throat and she was ready to let it burst, when very suddenly, the motion stopped and she felt them land.

She wanted to let go of the man immediately, but her limbs were too shaky. Slowly she lifted her head and took a peek at the ground. It was wood. Warm wood. In fact, she was warm. She could hear birds and insects, and something that sounded a great deal like monkeys. She tilted her head back so that she could get a better look at her captor. Her weak and trembling body almost fainted. James Potter.

Lily stepped away almost as though she'd been burned. There he stood, in nothing but a loincloth, hazel eyes glinting behind his glasses and a rakish grin pulling at his lips. A jungle vine was clasped in his hand. They had…_swung_ there? The thought was too nauseating to contemplate. Most bewildering she couldn't deny, however, were the antlers rising out of his head.

"My lady," he gave a slight bow she wasn't sure was mocking.

Glancing about stiffly, she took in her surroundings. It was a hut—a tree hut. With a kitchen like that she had at her parents' home. There were bunches of bananas hanging from the ceiling and a family of gorillas eating at the table. She was about to ask to be introduced when James stepped forward.

"Come," he said. Following her line of sight he added. "You do not want those bananas. I will give you mine to eat."

His grip settled firmly about her wrist and he pulled her from the kitchen and to a bridge with no railing that led to a neighboring hut. Lily's grip on his hand tightened reflexively at the sight and she followed him very closely, willing herself not to look down. When they reached the second hut, however, she stopped short.

Rabbits. They were everywhere. White, black, brown, and gray. And they had antlers tied to their heads.

"These," James announced grandly, "are my disciples."

A little dazed, Lily asked, "Did you strap those things to their heads?"

He looked scandalized. "Of course not. They did it themselves. I afford them many freedoms."

"Do you?" Lily said faintly.

James nodded. "I'm a gracious king."

"King?"

His fists planted on his hips, he announced, "I am the king of the forest."

Lily glanced around. Rabbits notwithstanding, they were clearly in a tropical setting. "You mean jungle."

"That too." He stepped closer to her. "And you are my prize. I battled the green beast for you and now you are mine."

Her eyes widened a bit, "No you didn't. You just swept me up."

"Not all battles involve engagement."

She was getting a bit confused. Before she could speak again, he lifted her into his arms.

"I will take you now."

It took her a full moment as she gazed into his bewitchingly intense eyes to realize what he meant. She was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was in her bikini and that he was eyeing her near nakedness greedily.

"Oh, okay," she said breathily as he carried her into his bedroom.

His bed was huge, far too large for a tree hut. He set her on it and stepped back. "Remove your clothing for me," he commanded.

"I am not one of your rabbits."

"No, it is the duty of the rabbits to worship you. They will wash your clothing while I take you."

She considered. "All right then."

Moving deliberately, she rose up on her knees. She reached for the tie at her back first. Pulling it loose, she could feel herself getting excited. Her eyes kept wandering to his lean, defined chest, and his arms folded while he waited. The way his loincloth hung on his hips was distracting as well. She hoped he would order her undress him next.

By the time her top dropped to the bed, her pulse was pounding. She stroked her hands over her hardened nipples a few times before trailing them down her stomach to the ties on each hip. Flushing under his rapt watch, she undid first one bow then the other. The fabric felt fantastic as it slid off her, and she couldn't help but have her hands follow the path of revealed flesh.

Still James did not move, just stood with his intense stare heating her skin. So she stroked herself invitingly. "Aren't you going to take me, Highness?"

He stepped forward and pulled her hard against him. She moaned and rubbed herself against him, the leather of his loincloth and the hot erection beneath it stroking her deliciously. His strength thrilled her and she found herself cooperating enthusiastically as he pushed her back on the bed and settled above her.

Without preliminaries, he tossed the leather scrap from his body and entered her. She moved to lace her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck, but he grasped her wrists with his hands and held them over her head. Each down-stroke was rough and delivered ungodly amounts of pleasure. She found herself hoping that he planned to keep her as a captive—she'd even wear antlers if he wanted.

Lily wrapped her legs around his waist as she drew closer to the ecstatic peak just slightly out of reach. She moved her whole body to meet his thrusts, and closed her eyes as she twitched and shook and screamed her release.

Sagging to the bed spent, Lily's eyes flew open when she felt something cold and slimy touch her lips. James was holding a live squirming fish over her, trying to force it into her mouth.

She tried to struggle, pull her hands free, but he still held them tightly.

"You must eat the fish, captive." When she shook her head wildly, his entire tack changed and he pleaded, "Please?"

Finally, the dream had reached a level of absurdity so grandiose sleep could no longer hold, and Lily found the canopy above her bed coming into focus. Her gold silk sheets were bonded to her skin by a thin layer of sweat, and the juncture between her thighs was still humming with the dull ache of afterglow. _What the hell was that?_ Well, for starters, reading all that Burroughs and Kipling as a child had adversely affected her in the sickest way possible. James…in a loincloth. Clearly her obsession had reached heights beyond justification. And it seemed her mind was fixating on the stag thing for one reason or another.

Of course, she could rationalize to herself that it wasn't a normal dream. The content, as well as the salty taste left in her mouth, was enough to conclude that Melody was dead. That was no simple sleep potion, but Brynhild's Elixir. Which explained the rabbits at least.

She lay there for a long moment, rubbing her eyes. Her head rolled to the side to look at the clock. 5:23. She debated whether or not to get up. Her alarm would be going off in thirty-seven minutes regardless, but she didn't much feel like moving.

The thought had no sooner formed in her head then she snapped up into a sitting position…only to collapse back against her pillows when the room spun. It seemed the potion had not yet worn off, but someone had stumbled into the common room rather loudly and, or so it sounded, had crashed into a table and broken something glass. She heard James bark out a string of curses indicating that he had injured himself.

She lifted the covers off her legs and reached for her dressing gown. Tying it closed, she ambled to the door slowly so as not to lose her balance. The room was still turning a bit more than she liked.

James was leaning against the wall of the vestibule, an overturned table surrounded by glass shards beside him. He was clasping his shin with an expression of pain and annoyance.

It was a shock to her system, seeing him after her deranged dream. One might think that the fact that he was filthy (mud was smeared on his limbs and she could swear there were dried leaves in his tangled mess of hair) would stop her knees from getting swoony, but one would be wrong. It would seem that he had been out all night, and if she had to guess, she would say that the Forbidden Forest was the likely venue for his apparent misadventure. She could ask him…but she didn't actually want to know.

Fearing for her bare feet she drew her wand. "_Reparo_," she commanded, and the vitreous dragon ewer reassembled itself on the floor.

James' head snapped up at the sound of her voice. For a moment, she could see his mind racing, grasping for some fib to justify his not-so-stealthy morning entry.

"Well," she sighed impishly, "clearly you just escaped the wood nymphs that kidnapped you from your bed to decorate your hair with foliage."

His hand lifted to his hair reflexively and felt about for the crusty leaves. Finding one, he glanced at it briefly before grinning at her. "Clearly," he agreed.

"I never doubted your return." The potion must still be making her tipsy, she decided—that was the only logical explanation for this daft dialogue.

"Of course you didn't. No band of wood nymphs could hold me." And he was still playing along.

Merciful Merlin, was she still dreaming? "Well they're not really your type."

He smiled suggestively. "No they're not."

This was intemperately silly, but she couldn't stop grinning like a buzzed floozy, which, she supposed, she was at the moment, in a technical sense.

James went to take a step and winced.

"Are you hurt?"

He lifted his trouser leg to show her a deep cut down the side of his calf and she gasped. "Do you have a potion for anything like this?" he asked.

"Let me check." She turned and went back into her room. Digging through her trunk, she searched for something that might alleviate the pain and hasten healing—the cut was simply too large and deep for the Meliorative Charm. There wasn't much as she tended not to brew over the summer holiday. Her parents were generally supportive, even if her sister was touchy about anything magical, but they were squeamish about potion making. Maybe it was all the dead bugs and animal parts involved.

When she reentered the common room, she saw James seated in one of the leather chairs by the fire, his injured leg propped up. She knelt before him, next to the ottoman, blushing slightly as she grasped his trouser leg.

"All right there, Evans?"

Her eyes darted up to his. His tone was too indistinct to tell if he was taunting her or genuinely concerned. Galloping gargoyles, were his eyes always that intense? "I think so."

A smile pulled at one of the corners of his mouth. "You're not certain?"

"Well." Oh bugger, she could feel her loose tongue even before she spoke. "Mel gave me this potion to help me sleep, but she's a right sneaky bint and it was Brynhild's Elixir."

He shook his head. "Never heard of it."

"It's a sleeping potion, but it also makes you a bit tipsy and…uninhibited."

Something lit behind James' eyes, and if she didn't know better she would say that a faint flush rose on his throat. "I remember now. It's the one that's supposed to cause erotic dreams, yeah?"

Lily looked away and didn't reply, but she knew from the way the skin on her face was burning that he had gotten his answer regardless. She ducked her head and concentrated on tending to his wound. Fingering the fabric as she raised it to expose the gash, she noticed that there was a strange dried crustiness on the cuff, and now that she thought about it, a deeply unpleasant odor as well.

"Potter, what is this on your trousers?"

He leaned closer to get a better look causing the skin on her neck to tingle. She watched as he made a face. "Circe's pig fetish, I thought I'd got it all." He drew his wand. "_Scourgify_." He looked up at her, his face too close to hers for her better judgment. "Trust me when I say you don't want to know what that was." With a casual grin, he settled backwards into the chair.

She stared at him rather shaken. Had she imagined him flirting with her just a few short seconds ago? How could his leaning close cause every inch of her to hum and he act as though kissing her in that charged moment never crossed his mind? This was not good—she was crumbling, she was finally breaking. After four long years of fighting off his advances, she was accepting the reality that she wanted him. Fate would be too cruel to have her discover now that James no longer cared.

He mistook her moment of stunted reflection and offered, "You don't have to do that. I can apply it myself." His eyes drifted closed and it was clear that he was exhausted.

"No," she said quickly. "I want to."

His brows furrowed and his eyes opened again. "You want to?"

Lily bit her lip and nodded. She was feeling a tad reckless, and sitting this close to him made her nipples ache. Knowing full well that she was still acting under the effects of the elixir, but finding strangely that she did not care, Lily whispered, "My mind just keeps drifting. I think I may still be intoxicated, and I can't stop thinking about my dream."

She peeked at him under her lashes as she took hold of his leg and began to clean the grime and blood from his skin. Outwardly he seemed calm, but she could see a vein on his neck begin to tick.

"What was this dream about?"

She focused intently on her task, knowing that if she looked at him she wouldn't be able to keep going. "A king. A king who took me as his…captive." Her own pulse was pounding feverishly now—she couldn't believe she was being so forward. She had finished cleaning the wound and was trying to get the corked bottle open, but her hands were trembling too violently.

"Let me try." James held out his hand. She could hear the huskiness he was trying to suppress and it sent a thrill through her.

When she passed the bottle to him, her fingers grazed his and she felt him tense. He quickly loosened the stopper and passed it back to her, taking care to avoid contact. In retaliation, she stroked his bare calf with her free hand before pouring some of the mixture into her palm.

"It's rather thick, isn't it?"

She smiled warmly at him, "It's actually more a poultice than a potion." She began to apply it, massaging it into the wound slowly.

He wanted to get up and run, she could see it in the white knuckles clenching the arms of his chair and in his shifty gaze. Lily dragged out the contact, becoming annoyed that he wasn't more receptive to her advances. She was arousing him—she knew she was. Why was he resisting?

"Almost done," she announced, surreptitiously sliding one end of the tie to her dressing gown beneath her foot. She re-corked the bottle and gathered her supplies, then stood knowing what would happen.

The slick silk could not hold the hastily tied bow, and her gown fell open. All she wore beneath was a camisole and panties, both made of silk so fine that they were almost translucent. She could feel the fabric clinging to her skin still from the light sweat she'd woken up with. "Oh…" she affected, "oops."

James was wide-eyed, his mouth agape. Had the moment not been so overwrought, Lily might have laughed at the expression on his face. She took her time closing the robe back up, making certain that he got a long, thorough look.

"Lily…?" he began.

She smiled in a way that most certainly gave away that she had exposed herself on purpose, but she was too pleased with herself to hold it in. "Yes James?"

Then…it happened. It was sudden, insuppressible, and so very, very wrong. Her entire stomach clenched in sickly and she felt herself retch. Lily vomited. On him. She knew that it was over rather quickly, but it seemed to her to be the longest moment of her life. She closed her eyes as she sank to her knees. Her head was whirling and she swayed first in one direction, then the other. She extended her hand blindly for something to steady her. Her fingers found James' leg and she seized it as the room spun. She couldn't even see it, what with her eyes clenched shut, but it was spinning.

After what seemed to be many minutes, the nausea passed and she cautiously opened her eyes. If James had been staring at her with a stunned expression before, it was nothing compared to now. She refused to tear her gaze from his face, not willing to assess the damage done by her regurgitation. She held her breath and waited for James to push her away from him in disgust. But he didn't. He laughed.

"Oh, Evans," he managed through his mirth, "I am going to remember that forever."

Lily would have run away if she had trusted her legs to carry her and her stomach not to launch a second revolt.

James moved to stand, disengaging himself from her grip gently. Lily looked down, certain that this was, and would remain, the most humiliating moment of her life. She was taken off guard when he tenderly lifted her into his arms. She gasped as her stomach turned, and he paused.

"All right there, Evans?" he asked, his mesmeric eyes twinkling.

She nodded mutely, her arms moving woodenly to circle his neck. For the barest moment, Lily was strongly reminded of her dream, when she and James had swung over the abyss of murky water. She was every bit as afraid of being dropped now as she had been then, but he carried her confidently up his stairs and into his room. He kicked open the door to his private loo and set her atop the toilet.

Lily watched dumbly while he pulled a pair of fluffy towels from a cupboard and started the tap running into the large tub, her brain a little too slowed and shocked to fully process his actions. She was further nonplussed when he pulled out his wand and cast a spell that made the water sweet smelling and bubbly.

He turned to her. "I hope gardenia is okay with you—it's the only scent I know how to conjure and I don't have any girly soap."

"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely.

He nodded. "Dealt with a few hangovers in my time. Long baths always seem to help. You can use my robe when you're done." He gestured to where it hung on a hook beside the sink.

"What about you?" He needed a washing even more than she did.

"Oh, I'll make my way up to Gryffindor Tower and use the boys' showers, I expect." He was gathering his toiletries to take with him. "Is there anything else I can get for you before I leave?"

_My dignity_, she wanted to say. "My wand," she answered.

He nodded. "_Accio_ Lily's wand." In an instant, it floated easily into the room and straight to James' hand. He held it out to her but she didn't take it; her brain seemed unable to command her muscles, so he set it on the counter. This was unbearable _now_—now she was horny and nauseated and addled, and she was ready to die of embarrassment. What about later, when she was none of those things? How was she to face him once she sobered?

As he was walking out the door, she felt him stroke her hair lightly. "If it helps any, you're the prettiest girl I've ever had throw up on me."


	6. Playing with Cards

**06**

**Playing With Cards**

It had been a long day. In fact, James couldn't remember twelve hours ever having plodded along this way before. Some of it was that he was tired. He'd had no sleep the night before, but that was part of the full moon ritual he and his friends had developed. Very frequently, it also meant muddling through classes the next day. Or at least it did for James. Remus had special dispensation to take several days off lessons every moon cycle, Peter could fake the symptoms of food poisoning on a whim and had a way of getting sent to bed, and Sirius had perfected a technique of sleeping sitting up with an advanced glamour charm to make it appear as though he were awake. But James suffered through with nothing but Ever-Alert potions. Peter and Sirius had offered to share their secrets with him, of course, but unlike them, James actually cared about his marks.

This time things were a little different, as Pomfrey had given Sirius something to knock him out and Peter had gone to bed directly after calling off Summers. But the result was the same: his friends got to sleep, and James didn't. It was dead unfair, but he was used to it.

No, it was Lily who had him so unanchored and incognizant that he was walking into walls. Through the haze of his exhaustion, James replayed the events of that morning over and over again. Mostly, he replayed the moment when her dressing gown had fallen open. Merlin, he had never seen anything so sexy. The ivory colored silk had clung to her skin as though it were wet. Her hair had been tousled and wild from just having rolled out of bed, her eyes alight with hunger. She had looked right devious and lustful, like some sort of wanton succubus summoned from his perviest dreams to haunt and torment him.

It was in retrospect that he realized the significance of that moment; or, at least, the significance beyond seeing Lily practically starkers. The girls with whom he had been mucking about over the past few days, the flirtation that was finally taking off with Rosmerta, the fact that he thought of girls other than Lily two wanks out of three—that was all over. His fate was sealed. That obsession if his, the one he had devoted so much energy toward being free of, was back in full force. All at once, Lily was his every thought. And like the prat he was, he had blown his chance.

She had been gagging for it. She had ogled him, purred at him, stroked him, and stripped for him. She had done everything but beg him to fuck her. And he hadn't done a bleeding thing because he _respected_ her. Because he didn't want to _take advantage_ of her inebriated state. Goddamn, he was a ponce. If Sirius ever found out about this little incident, he would never hear the end of it.

So James had upheld the ideals of the chivalrous nancy—now what? Now, he was randy as hell, and she was sober. He tried to be satisfied that he had been a gentleman, but really he was seething angry with himself. Because the truth of it was that drunk was the only way Lily would ever let him touch her.

Then had come the vomit. The vomit had been good. Not only had it stopped him from grabbing her and taking her right then on the nearest study table, but it also made him feel better about not having succumbed to her seduction. What if she had become sick while he was kissing her? The very thought horrified him—though such an incident probably would have cured him of his rabid lust for good.

And now here he sat, in Transfiguration, with a wretched erection that had crossed the line from pleasurable to painful long ago. Luckily class was almost over and it was his last for the day. Then he would lock himself in his dormitory, have a nice wank, and then sleep. Oh God, he couldn't wait to sleep.

Unfortunately, his friends had other plans for him.

"Prongs," Peter called. He had been waiting for James outside of class, leaning against the opposite wall.

Groaning inside his chest, James shambled over to his friend and grunted, "Yeah?"

Shifting a furtive glance in either direction, he spoke in a low voice, "We have to pick up the drinks for the game."

"The game?"

"It's the ninth, isn't it?"

James could have collapsed at Peter's feet at the very thought. He did not have energy for poker today. "I don't think I'll be able to stay awake—"

Peter cut him off by shoving a bottle in his face.

"Wormtail, another Ever-Alert will have me so twitchy I won't be able to sleep," he protested.

His friend shrugged. "So cut it with Firewhisky," he said as he dragged James in the direction of the passage that led to their liquor stash.

* * *

"At least there was no caterpillar smoking a hookah," Pilar said, reclining on Lily's bed.

Lily's lips twisted. "Small blessings."

"I think the whole thing is hilarious." Melody wrapped her arms around the back of the desk chair she sat in.

Lily faced her friend. "I know _you_ do—but your opinion doesn't count."

"You're in a snit about the whole thing." Melody shrugged. "I get that. But I'm not sorry."

"You drugged me."

"Well, yeah I did a bit, but I didn't plan it that way. I bought the potion for me—thought it would be a laugh. But then I saw you in the library last night with that swotty tosser Gudgeon and realized you needed a bit of a slap to the face."

Pilar was scandalized. "You're not serious."

But Lily knew Melody was and it rankled. "You think it was justified?"

"If it got you to own up to your feelings toward James, then yes."

Pilar's eyes snapped to Lily. "You have feelings for Potter?"

Melody rolled her eyes. "Oh, does she ever."

"I…" Lily had to force herself to admit the truth, "…do."

"Dittany and cabbage, when were you planning on telling me?" Pilar was offended.

Lily spread her palms. "They're just lust feelings."

Melody was grinning in an intensely satisfied way. "See, Galleons well spent."

"Galleons spent humiliating me."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Don't be so dramatic, Lily. No one got hurt."

Lily raised her eyebrows at the presumption of _that _comment. "I haven't told you the rest of it yet."

"Rest of it?" Pilar asked alarmed.

But Melody's brain was already working, a smirk pulling at her lips obnoxiously. "You didn't get out of bed did you? The label clearly states that you should not get out of bed for a full nine hours."

Lily gritted her teeth. "You removed the label."

"Oh, right." Melody smiled as she recalled her own deviousness. "I did."

"Yes," she said, fixing her eyes accusingly on Melody, "I got up."

"And…?"

"And Potter was in the common room—it looked like he had been out all night."

"Drinking," Melody supplied.

Lily scowled thoughtfully. "No. More like he was playing Quidditch in the Forbidden Forest. There were leaves in his hair, and he was covered in dirt and blood."

Pilar was troubled at that. "Blood?"

"He cut his leg on something."

"Is he okay?" To her credit, Melody actually seemed concerned.

"It was fairly deep, but I used that poultice Severus taught me how to make. He's fine." Melody made a face at Severus' name, but Lily pushed on, "No, that was not the bad part. The bad part was when I threw myself at him."

"You what?" Pilar sat up.

Melody was grinning widely. "Couldn't resist the sight of James all dirty, is that it?"

"No, that is not it. You have no idea what that potion was like. It was as if I had no inhibitions at all—it amplified my attraction to him to such a point…." She paused not wishing to finish, but knew she was just putting off the inevitable. The very expectant eyes of her friends on her, Lily swallowed and said quickly, "I exposed myself."

The noise that ripped out of Melody's throat was something between a scream and a giggle, but Pilar just stared, shocked. "You stripped?" she finally managed.

"I opened my dressing gown," she clarified. "But I wasn't wearing much underneath."

"This is so much better than I ever dreamed." Melody was beaming. "What did James do?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. He just stared at me like I'd gone barmy."

Melody's enjoyment sapped somewhat. "He didn't lay a hand on you? Not even for a moment?"

"Nope."

She folded her arms petulantly. "That berk."

"Then," Lily continued, "I was sick all over his trousers."

Melody and Pilar gaped at her for a moment. "As in…?" Pilar began but did not finish.

Lily nodded in assent.

Pilar stared for another second or so, then a snigger erupted and she collapsed face forward on Lily's bed into giggles. Melody joined in with her own irritating laugh, and Lily wasn't able to hold her straight face for long. It really was rather funny when she pushed past the humiliation.

She didn't know what she was going to do. She had thought she understood James Potter, but he had stunned her that morning. Not only had he not taken advantage of her in her all too willing state, but he had been so kind and gentle after she covered him in vomit. He had carried her up to his loo and drawn her a bath. It was a side of him she had never seen before, and it complicated things more than she liked. She didn't want to redefine James in her mind, because that would mean that she had assessed him poorly, or that he really had changed. Either way, it would mean that she was wrong.

Still, she couldn't deny that she was fascinated, or that James occupied her thoughts now in a way that he never had. What did he want? Judging from the way he had behaved since the start of term, he had moved on. He was still attracted to her, but he hadn't asked for a single date and he had barely flirted. He had been carrying on with other girls all over the school grounds, and that morning he had all but rejected her sexual advances. Yet, she had felt him staring at her all through Charms and Ancient Runes. When she had met eyes with him, his had an oddly maniacal glint to them that could either have been lust or sleep deprivation. It made her uncomfortable; it made her feel powerful.

"Pilar, would you do a reading for me?" she interrupted her friend's mirth.

Her voice still colored by her laughter, Pilar asked, "You think that's necessary?"

Lily shrugged. "I honestly don't know what to do."

Melody rolled her eyes. "Here we go."

"Hush," Pilar admonished pulling her tarot deck from her bag. "What would you like?" she asked Lily.

"Nothing fancy—the Celtic Cross would be just fine," she answered, taking the deck from Pilar to shuffle.

"I can always go ask James 'what the hell?' for you," Melody offered. "It's much faster and definitely more accurate than this shite."

Lily shot her a look as she passed the deck back to Pilar. "It's not Potter's feelings and motivations I'm trying to figure out."

That wasn't a lie—at least not completely. James and whatever was going on in his head were quite the points of interest today, but what had Lily well and truly unsettled was her own inner turmoil. Just how badly did she want him? And just how disastrous would it be if she gave in to her baser desires?

Pilar was placing the cards in their spread. "I can't believe you've fancied Potter all this while and you've never said a thing to me about it."

Lily's heart twisted; it was clear that her friend was hurt. "I'm sorry. I was just…ashamed."

"Ah Pilar, let her off the hook," Melody prodded from her seat at Lily's desk. "We never told her about Sirius."

Lily's head shot up. "What?"

"Pilar and I have wanted to rip off Mr. Black's trousers about as long as you've lusted after Mr. Potter."

Lily raised an eyebrow at Pilar.

She spread her palms defensively. "It's an admire from afar arrangement—we have a pact. Neither of us goes near him."

"Good." Lily sat on the bed to prepare for her reading. "He's a prat."

Melody made an offended noise, but Pilar nodded in agreement and flipped over Lily's first card. "Three of Swords," she announced. "Your heart has been broken by logic and ambition triumphing over love." She looked up at Lily. "Not your logic and ambition—his."

"You can't know that from one card," Lily snapped. She was not happy with where this was going. She wanted advice on what to do about James—she did not wish to discuss Severus.

"No," Pilar acquiesced. "But you are the least logical person I know." She flipped over the second card. "The Empress represents you."

Melody guffawed. "Think a lot of ourselves, do we?"

Pilar ignored her. "You are dominated by your physical body and the pleasures of the material world—particularly the pleasures of the flesh." She chewed her lip briefly in the way that Lily knew meant that she was excited. "This is perfect."

"Perfect?"

"Yes—remember the fish from your dream?"

Lily shuddered. "You mean the live one Potter was trying to shove down my throat?"

"Yes." Pilar nodded eagerly. "Fish, in conjunction with sex, are symbols of conception."

Melody was appalled. "Conception as in babies?"

"Yes, and the Empress is the mother figure—the nurturer and creator. Your dream and these cards are telling you that motherhood will be a defining and important aspect of your life."

No, Lily definitely did not like where this reading was going. Motherhood? She had never given it more than a moment's thought—she was only seventeen for fuck's sake. "Just move on to the next card."

Pilar gave Lily a look that suggested she wasn't being any fun, but moved to the third card anyway. "Eight of Wands—a sudden release of energy."

Melody sniggered.

"You are very powerful right now, and are encouraged to be impulsive. Your path will become clear to you soon, obstacles and negativity will be swept from it, and you should take it without hesitation." Pilar turned over the fourth card. "Ace of Cups. You are on the cusp of a relationship with great potential, but it will be your choice whether it brings you joy or pain, whether it blooms or wilts."

Lily and Melody shared a look; Pilar enjoyed this sort of thing a little too much. She flipped over the fifth card. "The Devil."

That had Lily's attention right away.

"There is a cursed relationship in your past."

"How do you figure that?" Lily demanded.

Pilar shrugged. "This reading is clearly geared toward your love life, and the Devil can be read as a perversion of the Lovers and the Hierophant—a union based in deception that ends in hurtful wisdom. The man and woman are bound by their chains of ignorance and sin, but may free themselves at any time. They just don't."

"Why don't you think this is a warning about James?" Melody asked, clearly curious why her friend wasn't taking this opportunity to slander Potter.

Pilar sniffed contemptuously. "Because the fifth card relates to the past. This is about Severus."

Lily was staring at the card—the naked, blindfolded man and woman surrounded by hellfire, their faces screwed up in pain as they clung to each other and to their chains. It was never her favorite. Mostly because it symbolized the evil within the self, and the power that evil had to hurt loved ones. Still, she couldn't find fault with Pilar's verdict; she couldn't think of a more apt description of her first love.

"He was the alligator in you dream, too, wasn't he?" Pilar pressed. "A symbol of a traitor and a liar."

Lily nodded without looking up, thinking of the bandage with the black ooze on the reptile's left arm—a detail she had omitted in her account of the dream to her friends.

Melody started to make a cheeky remark, but Pilar cut her off, flipping over the next card. "Six of Swords. You are in retreat, but it is a wise retreat. You have abandoned a hopeless and destructive situation, and you will grow positively from your leaving." Her hand flew to the next card. "Justice, but it is inverted. Justice will either not be served or will be extremely delayed. Strength. You are strong, but only when you know yourself. Doubt and self-delusion are your worst enemies. Only when you are honest with yourself will you be able to take charge of your fate."

"This is ridiculous," Melody muttered.

"Four of Swords," Pilar continued, giving no indication that she had heard her. "You have reached a period of rest after a long trial. You have not conquered and you are not finished, but you will endure to be challenged again." She turned over the next card and paused for a moment. "Knight of Wands."

"Isn't he dashing," Melody mocked.

Lily swallowed. "James."

Pilar inclined her head. "Perhaps. His personality fits the part well. Whoever he is, he represents all your hopes and fears."

"You think I'm afraid of Potter?" Lily said.

"I know you are." Pilar met her gaze squarely. "You are worried he will make you vulnerable, worried he will hurt you." She studied Lily's face carefully. "But I think you are most afraid that he will not."

"Not what?"

"Hurt you." She reached for the last card. When it was face up, the three of them just stared for a long, tense minute.

Melody chuckled. "Well…that's self-explanatory."

Lily was numb. The Lovers. It was a card she had been watching for over the entire reading, not knowing if she desired it its appearance, or dreaded it. Just now, the sight of it was making her ill. She picked up the card, turned it back over, and rose from the bed.

* * *

"So I'm just standing there in nothing but my shorts, locked out of my own flat, holding her wand, and it won't stop vibrating. I'm pounding on the door, but the cow won't let me in. Then this old Muggle from across the hall steps out of the lift with his groceries," Sirius paused to take a shot of his Firewhisky. He was in rare form.

James couldn't manage to stop laughing long enough to breathe. Of course, part of that was that he was already very drunk. Exhaustion, four Ever-Alerts, and the fact that he'd scarcely eaten a thing all day joined forces with the shameful reality that he was a bit of a lightweight anyway.

"The codger takes a long look at me and says, 'I never saw a chap owned one of those.'"

Peter was nearly as bad off. His cheeks were flushed with laughter while his pudgy hands gripped his cards sloppily, and James could see that he held a pair of tens. That didn't worry James—he had two pair.

"'It's not mine,' I told him. He just gives me this embarrassed smile and says, 'I'm not saying it don't look like fun—to each his own, boy.'"

Remus…. Fucking hell, Remus had folded two betting rounds ago. This was not good. How could James have missed that? His eyes flew to the pot—how much had he thrown in? _Oh, balls._ There were at least ten Galleons of his money in there.

One of Sirius' favorite little parlor tricks was to start telling a story during a game when he had a superlative hand so as to distract the other players in the betting. Pretty soon, they would all be paying more attention to the story than to the amount of coin they were tossing in the pot. Only Remus saw this slight of bollocks coming. So that was the trick: _keep your eye on Remus; fold when he does._ Yet James had failed to follow this simplest of rules. He deserved what came next.

"So I said, 'Would you like to have a go, sir?'"

Peter sniggered into the bottle.

"Call," Sirius announced. "Four Queens."

* * *

Severus kicked a telescope. It was more satisfying than he had expected, but it didn't make him any less angry. So, he kicked it again, and this time it pitched over the railing and fell from the tower. That was better. Somewhat.

She had told Dumbledore about him. That bitch had told Dumbledore about him. The Headmaster had refrained from expelling him, but he would be on probation and he was no longer a prefect. Severus barely cared.

He stood frozen for a moment, the chilling cold of the September night wind chapping his skin. Lily…had betrayed him. Some part of him was not surprised—the part that knew Lily. She was too naïve to appreciate why Severus would make such a decision, her morals too inflexible to allow for the necessity and wisdom of it. She would not have been able to sit on information she saw as potentially harmful. Even for him.

Lily didn't realize where England was headed. The Dark Lord was gathering forces, waging a war. And he was winning—would win. Very soon, Lily would be a second-class citizen, vulnerable prey to every pure-blood in the wizarding world. The Mark that adorned his arm was not about a desire to massacre or torture, it was about power. Power to protect her, keep her safe from those who would not recognize that she was different from other Mudbloods. Special. Perfect.

He had known that her distain was the price of his choice, but someday she would come back to him. Someday, when she had nothing left, when she was being hunted, when she had been abused, she would return to him. And he would save her.

She would apologize for this then. She would beg for his forgiveness—he would make sure of it. Why couldn't she just see that he was right, and that it was all for her?

The expanding lump in his throat was making it difficult to breathe. The forgiveness would come later. Just now he was ripped open, violent. Murderous.

He lashed out, attacking another telescope, and another. The student tables crashed to the ground in his wake, compasses and charts spilling onto the obdurate gray stone. It was incomprehensible to harm the object of his rage—he wouldn't even allow himself to think of her face as he struck—so the Astronomy Tower would just have to take it. He was consumed with the need to hurt _something_. If he didn't, all he would be able to think of would be the tears slicing down his cheeks.

When the adrenaline failed him and his scrawny muscles gave out, he collapsed against the battlements. Merlin curse him, but he was alone.

Of course, he always had been alone—since childhood it had always been Severus against the world. But that conflict had never felt more real than now. _Because I've lost her_. It had all been easier with Lily at his side. She was real in a way that no one else was. Lucius, Bellatrix, Regulus, and the Dark Lord were tools. Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew were opponents. Dumbledore, Petunia, his mother, and his father were obstacles. Lily was the only person his life had ever known. He had given so much to her, so much for her. And she had left him.

He comforted himself with the knowledge that she would grovel later. Until then, he would have to endure. He had the task of garnering influence, trust, and power in his new community. And he had to survive.

That was an obligation not to be taken lightly. Aurors were hunting down known Death Eaters. And some not so known, as the late Dexter Pucey had discovered in a highly unpleasant and final manner. Pucey had been new, young, and hardly high profile, but he had told someone who had told someone and now he was dead. Severus would be imprudent not to see a correlation.

Lily was a fool, he knew. Too innocent in the ways this dirty world worked, and she may have just set in motion events that would get him killed. She had isolated him even further, because both his foes and his allies were, in truth, his enemies now. If Dumbledore reported him, every Auror in the Ministry would be waiting for him when he left school. If the Dark Lord discovered that anyone knew of his initiation, his life would be forfeit. Severus was not so valuable as yet to warrant any kind of consideration in the event that he compromised his new brothers. Death seemed more real to him tonight than it ever had, and it struck him that he was far too young to be so aware of his mortality.

His only consolation, his only motivation was that, should he live and everything go as planned, she would come back to him.

* * *

Lily looked up from her Care of Magical Creatures assignment when the portrait hole creaked open. James plodded through. He closed the portal in a careful yet ungainly way that informed Lily that he had been drinking.

Color rose on her throat as she watched him, memories of that morning hitting her with their full force. She contemplated making a dash for her chambers, but did not, reminding herself that she was positioned in the common room deliberately. She refused to cower and hide from him, allowing her humiliation to grow and take on a life of its own. She was _not_ afraid of this boy.

"Good evening, Potter," she greeted him.

He jumped and whirled about at the sound of her voice. For a moment his eyes were slightly alarmed, but then they settled on her form and softened as he smiled.

"Evans." He approached her without hesitation and plopped into the chair beside hers at the study table. His eyes were bloodshot with dark smears beneath them informing her that he had yet to sleep. "What are you doing here?"

Yes, he had most certainly been drinking. She could see it in his apish movements, and she could smell the Firewhisky on his breath. Instead of replying sarcastically to his rather silly question, she answered it in the spirit it was asked.

"I'm finishing my Hippocampus sketch." She found herself smiling as she said the words. A mere five seconds ago, she had been uncomfortable to the point of agitation at the thought of his presence, of seeing him after everything that had passed between them while she was under the effects of that potion. But now he was sitting here beside her with his smile so open and his demeanor so friendly—something she knew she owed to his intoxicated state. Had he been remotely sober, he would have been taking the piss as per usual. She had never thought of James as a silly, happy drunk, but it made a daft kind of sense now that she knew him better.

He was studying her work. "It's pretty," he pronounced. "You draw pretty."

She blushed at his uncalculated praise of something she enjoyed doing but no one ever really paid much consideration. "It helps to have pretty subject matter," she deflected.

He gestured to her hands. "Your fingers have ink all over them."

Lily's eyes drifted down to her blotched skin. "That happens. I don't mind it so much except that it stains for days and won't come off no matter what magical soap I use."

"That's because it's magical ink," he chuckled. "Have you tried an Invisibility Charm? It won't get rid of the smudges, but it will make it so no one can see them."

"I-I haven't—have you?"

"Sure. I had a mishap with a barrel of ink once—ended up drenched in the stuff. I had to figure something out."

She stared at him for a moment. God, he was…mythic. Were there no end to his exploits? Stories about James Potter and his friends had been a fixture of her Hogwarts experience. Every occasion, every classroom, every teacher had an escapade with which they were associated. The rumors she had heard elevated him to some sort of demigod of mischief. Supposedly he knew all of the school's secret passageways; had been in student prohibited zones such as the teachers' lounge and the basement kitchens; had visited all the House common rooms in defiance of school convention; and had vast experience with the geography of Hogsmeade, the Black Lake, and the Forbidden Forest. The unicorn in the prefects' bath, the Dung Bombs in Dumbledore's Office, every girl in Slytherin House's knickers hanging from the chandelier in the Entrance Hall. Was any of it true? Was all of it? Lily had no idea and had never been particularly curious in the past. In fact, she had done her utmost to be put off and contemptuous of James' flashy reputation. If it was genuine and well earned, he was an entitled prick who thought rules were beneath him. If it wasn't, he was a liar. Either marked him as a chap she didn't particularly care to know. But now, in this moment, for the first time it seemed…adventuresome. A Knight of Wands to be sure.

Before she could speak, he drew his wand. "Here," he said, "I'll show you."

In her mind wandering, she had temporarily forgotten about the ink. It occurred to her that perhaps she did not want James casting spells on her while he was inebriated. But then he took hold of her hand and every rational thought faded from her brain. She knew that there was no way she was still feeling the effects of Brynhild's Elixir, but his touch was every bit as potent as it had been that morning. It was just like the first time she had felt his skin, her fingers sinking into his soft hair to massage a remedy into an injury. Everything dulled and became unimportant save for the blood becoming frantic in her veins. It both terrified and entranced her that James had this effect on her—that her body reacted this way for him and him alone. For the life of her, she couldn't see what made him so special that such would be the case.

Her eyes drifted up to his face. It was narrow and the slopes of it slightly angular. His eyebrows were full, black, and expressive in ways his glasses could not hide. His lips were too thin, but appeared soft and were surrounded by comely, rough-looking stubble. Apparently he had not shaved today, and Lily trembled just thinking of the way it would feel on her lips, cheeks, and neck if he kissed her. He would never be pretty like Black, or striking like Remus. Something in his features was distinctly boyish, in fact. But it seemed that she found his looks fanciable enough.

His gold-flecked eyes rose to meet her gaze. "There, you can't even see it anymore."

Lily looked down at her hand. Indeed, there was no sign of the ink anywhere. James made to release his hold, but as he did two cards fell from the cuff of his shirt and drifted to the floor. One landed face-down, but the other was the Ace of Hearts.

"Oh bugger," was his delayed reaction.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I was cheating back at the game—not very well, mind you—and I forgot to slip them back into the deck before I left."

She blushed as she realized she had made a leap in the conversation he couldn't possibly have followed even if he had been sober. The fact that he had been cheating didn't even faze her. She expected no less. "I meant, how did you end up drenched in ink."

"Oh," he grinned as he spoke. "Peeves."

"Peeves?"

"Yeah, he got all four of us right after exams last year."

"Oh."

"But we're going to get him back—we have a _brilliant_ plan." He smiled rakishly and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Isn't that…stupid?"

"What?"

"Starting a feud with Peeves."

James nodded vigorously. "Yes, very. I wish someone had told us in our first year. Half the stuff we've been hauled into Filch's office over all these years were either things Peeves pinned on us, or things we pinned on Peeves only to have them backfire."

Lily sat forward, toward him, unable to hold her next question in. "So, a lot of what I've heard about you…you didn't do?"

He was thoughtful. "The unicorn in the bath was us—but that was an accident. We also did the mural of the Minister that shouted obscenities, and the Tebo herd getting loose was a plan of Peter's that went terribly, terribly wrong. But we didn't do the knickers on the chandelier. We would have loved to, but that was all Peeves. We also never put Dung Bombs in Dumbledore's desk. We're stupid, but we're not that stupid."

So, she had her answer: entitled prick who thought rules were beneath him. It didn't speak well for him, but it made Lily feel better. She was considering rebounding with this boy, and it was comforting to know he was a big enough git that she wouldn't fall in love with him. It would do her no good to get over Severus only to have her heart broken by yet another cad. "What about that week Binns sang dirty limericks every time he opened his mouth?"

"Sirius," James said. "That was his favorite prank we've ever done."

"What's yours?" Lily asked.

Interestingly enough, his face colored. "I can't say."

"Because it has to do with me?"

He nodded.

She scanned her brain for pranks in which she had been a victim. "Could it be the time you lot released a boggart in our dormitory and we all came running out in our night things?"

He smiled guiltily. "And you were wearing that little number with the pink roses on it."

Lily knew she should be angry, disapproving, or at the very least turned off. But she wasn't. Perhaps it was because he was none of the things he should be either. He was being so honest, telling her about his past exploits without bragging or exaggerating, and he hadn't teased her once since he entered the room. It was very strange to be talking to James without fighting with him.

"That must seem like nothing after this morning."

"I don't know. I kind of missed those little pink rosebuds."

Lily's face fell a little. Yes, she remembered the way he looked at her that night in their fourth year. His eyes had been wide and full of the most carnal hunger, his jaw had been slack, and he could barely speak. He had been at her side the moment she darted down the stairs and had spent the ensuing minutes trying to come up with excuses to touch her. Lily compared that behavior to his reaction that morning and felt something sink in her chest. It was clear that he didn't want her the way that he used to. Back then he had practically worshiped her, but now she was just another pretty girl to him—one he wouldn't even touch when she was half naked and willing. It was too cruel. As soon as she returned his interest, he no longer wanted it.

"Potter…this morning. Why didn't you take me up on my offer?"

His head shot up. "W-what?"

Lily swallowed, summoned her courage, and asked again, "When I threw myself at you, why didn't you make a move?"

"You weren't yourself. I didn't want to take advantage."

Lily laughed; it wasn't until she caught the look on his face she realized he was sincere. "Really?"

He nodded.

She sat back in her chair and considered that for a moment. Then she did something that could only have been described as impulsive and ill-advised: she leaned over and kissed him.

James yelped a bit in surprise, but she didn't allow him to pull away. Perhaps she should have, but she was unable to contain herself. It was…so much more than she had predicted. Everything in her turned to mush and flame. His lips tasted like Firewhisky and treacle tart, and his stubble scraped her skin and sent shivers of pleasure down her body. She was panting as she pulled back, and the kiss had only lasted a few seconds. God, what had he done to her?

He was blinking at her, rather wide-eyed in his shock. He sat stiff in his seat, and it occurred to Lily that he had not kissed her back. In fact his demeanor was very much like it had been that morning when she had last thrown herself at him. At least then she'd had the excuse of being intoxicated. Now she was sober and he was drunk. And he still didn't want her.

Her face grew hot in her shame. "I-I'm sorry." She stood and began gathering her things, avoiding his gaze. "I should have just taken the hint this morning that you weren't interested anymore."

She turned to leave, but found him blocking her path, having risen as well. He reached out, took her books and parchment rolls from her arms, and set them neatly on the table. The jovial drunk was gone, and everything in his darkened eyes said that he was deadly serious.

"What—?"

He attacked her—there was no other way to describe it. He took her lips with his as though they belonged to him. _Sweet Merlin_, he kissed the way he flew: effortlessly, powerfully, and with complete assurance. One of his hands came up to caress her jaw, just as his other found its way around her hips to pull her tightly against him. The heat from his body was making her dizzy. She whimpered sweetly in her throat.

Her hands slid between their bodies and she moved them up his torso. _Oh God_, she could feel the definition of his muscles through the layers of his shirt and vest. Her trembling fingers reached his collar and snaked around the silk of his tie. She yanked, succeeding in pulling James' lips harder against her own. He groaned, bucking his hips against hers. And her knees fell slack.

She had to release his tie to catch herself from falling onto the study table behind her. The kiss broke as she stepped back, and they both stood quivering and winded.

"Evans…what the bleeding fuck was that?" James demanded.

Lily didn't answer. She was too busy gazing at him with new eyes. It was as though someone had smacked her—when a boy kissed you, it could be like _that_. Never, never had anything felt the way it did when James touched her. And God help her, but she wanted him to do it again.

With that wanton realization came an overwhelming sense of freedom. She would no longer have to censor her thoughts or her wants regarding this boy. She could touch to her heart's content, and that was a heady thought.

Not only that, there were other worries that would not plague her with James. Never had she become involved with a bloke she wasn't friends with first. This meant there were no preconceived routines to break down, and no anxieties over "ruining the friendship."

She was looking at a rebound. A fling. The simple objective being to get over Severus.

She had not thought she was the sort of girl who did such things. But now, looking up at James' rumpled hair and hot eyes, she conceded that perhaps she was precisely that sort of girl.

James would be fun, he would take her on adventures, and it was obvious that the sex would be searing and positively sinful. After they tired of each other, they would go their separate ways, satisfied.

But she was getting ahead of herself. He was still waiting for an answer, but she did not give him one. Instead she licked her lips quickly and asked him a question of her own.

"Potter, will you go out with me?"


	7. View From the Astronomy Tower

**07**

**View From the Astronomy Tower**

James had been brushing his teeth for a solid fifteen minutes. He knew he was very near late for Arithmancy and had pretty much missed breakfast, but he was having a difficult time functioning this morning. He stood dazed, not even seeing himself as he stared into the mirror, processing the previous night. Was he really remembering it clearly? A study table, a sketch of a Hippocampus, some banter about his long-standing delinquency, Lily kissing him, and then…. Merlin, there were no words to describe the snog that came after. He didn't even know if it qualified as something so mundane and common. It had been…lightning. He had been struck by bloody lightning, and he wasn't even completely certain it had happened.

He had, after all, spent the preceding hours guzzling Ever-Alerts and Firewhisky, not to mention that he had been running on no sleep and very little food. Yet, he knew he couldn't have imagined that kiss, no matter what his state. His rational mind, the one that had been internalizing Lily's repeated rejections for years and spurring him to move on, was numb with shock. In one day, Lily had stripped, kissed him like she was begging to be shagged, and asked him to go out with her.

The words 'too good to be true' came to mind, and he knew he was missing something somewhere. Either he was remembering something differently than what had actually happened, or there was some joke or wager to which he was not privy. Because there was no reason he could think of—not one—for Lily's feelings to about-face with nothing resembling a warning.

He spat the toothpaste lather into the sink and ran his free hand through his hair. It wasn't possible. She couldn't be as mad about him as he was about her. He gurgled and rinsed. Well…he had to see her. That was the only way he would be able to tell if it was real—if she actually wanted him.

He snatched up his tie and the bag holding his books and rushed from his room. As he descended to the common room he called out, "Evans!" _No_, he told himself, _not Evans_. "Lily!"

Merlin that felt good. It wasn't as though he had never used her first name before, rather that he had always felt he wasn't allowed to use it––because she never used his. Never except yesterday when she had opened her dressing gown. Yesterday, when she had been drunk and magically randy. But now she had asked him to be her boyfriend, and that was tantamount to permission, wasn't it? _Lily_. His chest warmed. Fuck, it was a beautiful name. All the more beautiful now that he could say it whenever he wanted.

She didn't answer, and he could see that she wasn't in her room from the foot of her stairs. He immediately felt silly. Of course she wasn't. She would be down in the Great Hall having breakfast with everyone else, or perhaps even making her way to class.

What did she have first thing on Fridays? Care of Magical Creatures? No, no that was after lunch. Potions? That's right, she had Potions. Mental bint loved Potions.

He climbed through the portrait hole, kicking the painting closed behind him. He heard the fairy that served as their password keeper cursing at him for it, but he did not pause. Recklessly taking two passageways Filch frequented, James reached the Entrance Hall's marble staircase in record time.

"Prongs," he heard Sirius call.

His eyes flew to see his friend climbing the stairs toward him.

"Where are your robes?"

James glanced down. "I must've forgotten them."

"Well, at least put on your tie. You missed breakfast, but I nicked you some toast," he held it out to James.

Reflexively, James accepted the two slices. However, his eyes were scanning the crowd and he continued toward the Great Hall.

"Prongs," Sirius all but barked. "Arithmancy is this way. Lemniscate will have our cocks if we're late."

"I know," James responded absently, his gaze still roaming the crowd of students. "I just need to…" he trailed off. There she was, walking with Jones toward the dungeons. Fucking blimey, she was gorgeous. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her lips were glossy and pink. He wanted to rush down there and kiss her like she had kissed him last night. "…see her," he finished without thinking.

Sirius followed his line of sight. "Oh…balls." He sounded almost angry. "You're a right ponce, you know that, James?"

"I know that, yeah."

She looked up. Her eyes met his, and she seemed startled to have caught him staring at her. She blinked a few times, as though she were uncomfortable with his scrutiny. There was nothing new there. Then, her cheeks colored; that didn't happen often, but it was understandable considering what had transpired between them the day before. James swallowed, knowing Sirius was right, knowing how he must look staring at her like a hungry animal across the Entrance Hall, knowing there were many more eyes than he would like on him just now. But then she did something that made the vague humiliation worth it, something that eased his disbelief and panic that last night did not mean what he had wanted it to mean: she smiled.

Lily Evans smiled at him. And that was new.

She ducked her head flirtatiously and disappeared through the doorway leading to the dungeons.

Okay, so, it was real. He still didn't have the whys or the hows, but he was dating Lily.

He wanted to yaulp, he wanted slide down the banister outside the Owlery—the one that spiraled and ran the length of six stories, he wanted to be on a broom. He needed to celebrate. Merlin, he didn't know that anything in the world could feel this good.

But then Sirius' hand came down on his shoulder, and he was reminded of the practicalities of his existence. Arithmancy. Right.

The celebration would come later, when he could get his hands on her.

* * *

"Professor Slughorn?" Lily asked as she knocked on the Potions Master's open office door.

He looked up from where he sat at his desk, marking parchment rolls. "Ah, Miss Evans, please come in."

Lily smiled and entered the small circular office. For a hole in the dungeons, it was a beautiful room and she was rather fond of it. Rich tapestries lined the walls and hand-carved shelves displayed colorful jars of rare ingredients. A heavy mahogany desk rested atop a Persian rug, and a polished chandelier hung from the ceiling. She knew the room owed its aesthetic effect to the tastes of her professor. Truth be told, it was a mite gaudy; but Lily appreciated the way it reflected her favorite teacher's personality; Slug had always been a bit over-the-top himself. She sat in the stuffed leather chair facing his desk, and he held out a gold dish brimming with sweets.

"Chocolate Frog?" he offered.

She shook her head. "No, but thank you."

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She swallowed, knowing that she couldn't bring up her real reason straight away. Slughorn needed to be impressed first. "I wanted to speak with you regarding my project for my Potions Master license."

"Ah," the large man nodded, "you've chosen a subject then?"

"Yes. I would like to investigate Blood-Replenishing Potions and the possibility of extending their effective period from hours to days."

Her teacher set down his peacock feather quill and gave her his full attention. "That is indeed ambitious. What will be your approach?"

"Most Blood-Replenishing Potions produce several pints of blood, which is more than enough in the majority of cases. The trouble is that such potions are also implemented in instances of uncontrollable bleeding." Lily pulled a parchment roll from her bag detailing her intentions and method of experimentation and placed it on the desk before him. "First, I intend to use Scarpin's on a few legally questionable Hemorrhaging Draughts I purchased on Knockturn Alley." A corner of Slughorn's mouth tugged, amused. "These types of potions use illegal ingredients in proportions that are constantly evolving to cause the victim to bleed uncontrollably for days. By detailing these ingredients, which the brewers do _not_ report, I may find something that will be useful in the reverse," Lily defended. "Golpalott's third law may be useful here, as well, as antidotes to these potions would be extremely powerful—and useful for my project."

"Very interesting. What else?" Lily could see that he was thoroughly enthralled.

"Most instances of uncontrollable bleeding are caused by venoms, either from bites by the animal itself, or by the venom being used in a poison. I found and ordered some very promising ingredients detailed in _Asiatic Anti-Venoms_. There are a great many things Xue-Ming writes about that haven't been tested or utilized enough here in the West."

Slughorn was smiling openly with unabashed eagerness, and Lily knew she had him.

"The basic template for Blood-Replenishing Potion is in _Advanced Potions-Making_, but the basic template for the Hemorrhaging Draught is in _Moste Potente Potions_, so I will naturally need a permission slip to check it out of the Restricted Section."

"Of course." Slughorn nodded, already reaching for a slip.

Lily waited patiently while he wrote, summoning the courage to ask him what she had come to ask. She had just opened her mouth when the professor interrupted her thoughts.

"Do you know what Severus is planning for his project? He hasn't been in to see me about it yet."

All the air in Lily's chest disappeared for a moment. "No, we have not discussed our intentions."

Slughorn shook his head. "You two are too competitive. Try to remember that it's not all a contest; I can't speak for Stafel and Saunders but the both of you are shoo-ins for this license."

Lily was certain she had never worn a smile so stiff. "I'll do my best to keep that in mind."

He gave her the slip and rose from his seat. "I look forward to your first progress report. Now, let us proceed to class. It's set to begin presently."

"Wait," she said a little more abruptly than she had intended. Slughorn was gazing at her with mild alarm and she chewed her lip. This was not going as she had planned. She cursed herself for hesitating in the first place. "Professor, I wanted to ask you a question about your Halloween Masque."

Instantly Slughorn's face brightened. "What would you like to know?"

Well, she'd made it this far. She might as well just spit it out. "May I invite James Potter?"

Her teacher blinked and his smile faded. "W-What? Why ever would you wish to do that?"

"I'm seeing him. We're dating."

Lily swallowed as she watched her Potions professor's face grow first shrewd and then guarded. Slughorn was one of the few people who had known about her relationship with Severus, and he was the only one who had approved of it. It was clear from his expression now that he didn't much care for the idea of her with someone else, particularly someone he disliked so thoroughly.

"His behavior has been impeccable for more than a year. He's Head Boy now," she reasoned.

Slughorn's hand came up to stroke his lapel in an unconscious gesture Lily recognized well. At least he was considering it.

"It's really Black who's the bad apple. If you separate the two of them, Potter is like an angel." _Great_, Lily's voice of inner sanity sighed, _now you're telling an outrageous lie to a teacher_. But Slughorn seemed to believe it, so she added, "I promise he will not leave my sight all night."

It seemed a very long moment before Slughorn spoke. "Very well. You may invite him."

Lily let go of a breath she did not know she had been holding. It was done now. She was dating James Potter.

When she had awoken that morning and remembered the events of the night before, she had been seized with terror. Last night, asking James to go out with her seemed the most natural thing in the world, but how could it not, now that she knew the way he kissed? Gazing at his bed hair, his warm, trembling hands, and his eyes darkened with lust, she had wanted him so badly she might have begged if he had said no. But he hadn't. In fact, she was certain she would never forget his response.

"You're taking the fucking piss, right?" he had demanded. When she shook her head, he covered his face with his hands as though reveling in shock. "Shit, I'm going to need a wank."

She wasn't altogether certain if he had meant to say that second part, or if it was the Firewhisky talking. "Is…is that a yes?"

"God, yes."

And she had made a hasty retreat, telling herself that it was a bad idea to shag him immediately after initiating their relationship. She didn't want him to get the wrong idea, after all. True, sex had become an undeniable interest for her in the association, but she didn't want him to think she was some sort of spectacular slag. Besides, that was hardly all she was after. The whole point of fooling about with James was that it would be fun, that he would be exciting, take her places she didn't know existed, that he would make her laugh.

A boy who made her laugh—wouldn't that be novel after years of keeping company with Severus.

"Thank you, sir." She smiled gratefully.

A few minutes ago, she had been worried that she would find a way to wriggle out of it. That she would be too leery of the way James could influence her emotions so completely to actually allow an intimate relationship to grow between them. With a look, a word, a brush of his hand, he had always seemed to inspire feelings too violent for her to control: anger, pettiness, jealousy…lust. Perhaps Pilar was right, and she was afraid of him. But she wouldn't let that matter. That arse may be able to bring out the virago in her and the tart, but she wouldn't allow him to bring out the coward.

Now, she had made a commitment to ask him to a party that was a high-profile event everyone talked about. And she had told someone, an authority figure she respected no less, that she and James were dating.

Lily had effectively boxed herself in. She couldn't back out now.

She rose from her seat and exited the office before Slughorn, as he was gesturing gentlemanly for her to walk first. As she crossed the threshold, she ran straight into Severus.

She took a step back, pulling away from him, her mouth falling open. His nostrils were tightly flared, his lips bloodless. Lily looked back at Slughorn's door—the door that had remained open all through her discussion with her professor. Oh God, Severus had heard every word.

Lily felt a chill shake her as his narrowed black eyes glared fiercely down at her.

"Ah," Slughorn said as he looked from Severus to Lily and back again. "I will give the two of you a moment. Just, hurry in to class as soon as you sort this out."

Lily felt a spike of panic. She tried to voice a protest, but all that emerged was a squeak. She heard, rather than saw, the door to dungeon two close as her teacher disappeared through it, so focused was she on the young man before her.

It was too early. She wasn't ready for Severus to find out, but she supposed it was a little late for that.

Severus was the first to speak. "'James Potter's an arrogant toerag,' 'I don't give a bucking hippogriff about Potter,' 'I wouldn't have anything to do with that wanker even if I were Imperiused.'"

Lily cringed as he flung her words back at her.

"What a charming liar you are," he mocked nastily.

"I wasn't lying," she whispered. She had meant those things when she said them—meant them completely.

"Of course you weren't. So…it appears that you're simply fickle."

"I have," she spoke carefully, "reevaluated him. I think I may have judged him too harshly." She couldn't seem to meet his eyes.

"Too harshly?" he spat. He took a step toward her and Lily shrank. "You have been panting after Potter for years. I knew it, and yet I let you lie. I wanted to believe that you understood just what he was. I wanted to believe that you were smarter than all the other girls who swoon over him, fuck him, and then get tossed aside. But perhaps I should be warning him instead, let him know that he is involving himself with a traitorous bitch who will turn on him and break his heart the second things get inconvenient for her."

Lily's eyes widened. She drew up to her full height and looked Severus squarely in the eye. A moment ago she had felt guilty; a moment ago she had been ashamed of herself, for hurting Severus so deeply and deliberately, for being so selfish; a moment ago she had understood that his anger was an expression of his pain. Now…now she was angry and hurt, too.

"Inconvenient?" she very near shrieked. "_You_ betrayed _me_. Not the other way around, Severus. _You_ broke _my_ heart. _Twice_. Maybe I have fancied Potter for a long while. Maybe I will shag him ragged. Maybe he will throw me over directly afterward. But don't forget, even for a second, that you are the villain here. I gave you a second chance, and you made me a fool."

"You were already a fool," he snarled, rage flashing in his eyes. "You're far worse than that now."

"At least I'm not a Death Eater," she said, her voice so low she scarcely heard herself. "I hope you die in his service." She regretted the words the second they exited her mouth, but she was far too enraged to take them back.

His eyes darkened to an icy black, and she saw a violence rising in them. She saw his arm flex. _Oh my God, he's going to hit me_, she realized. She swallowed and was unable to keep from wincing bodily to brace herself for the blow.

He saw her flinch, and it seemed to dawn on him what he'd almost done. Severus remained stiff with fury and his sneer still twisted his face, but something inside him deflated. And all at once, he was the nine-year-old boy she had met on the playground. Lily hated herself for forgetting—she always seemed to. He was fragile. She was the strong one.

True, he had crossed an unforgivable line; they would never again be friends and he deserved a great many horrible things. But that didn't give her the right to hurt him just because she knew how.

Wordlessly, he turned around and entered the classroom.

It was as though all the fight went out of her spine, and Lily collapsed against the stone wall, sliding down until she was sitting on the floor. Her limbs had begun to tremble uncontrollably. Merlin, she didn't want to cry. She refused to cry.

"Are you all right?"

Slowly, Lily lifted her face from her shaky hands to see Remus Lupin looking down at her.

"I-I'm fine." How much had he overheard?

"For a moment, I thought that was going to turn violent."

Very near everything, it seemed. "I did, too." But surely not the part about Severus being a Death Eater—she had said that too quietly. She hoped.

And she couldn't help but wonder why she hoped.

"Do you…need to talk?" he asked kindly.

That sounded very nice. "No," she whispered.

If Lily were honest, she wanted Pilar. She wouldn't judge loudly and give advice like Melody, or become uncomfortable with the seriousness of the topic and turn everything into a joke like Hestia. And she wasn't one of James Potter's closest friends.

"I won't tell James," he said, almost as though he had read her mind.

She looked up at him sharply

"A part of me had always suspected that there was more to your friendship than, well, friendship. But I won't tell James."

"Thank you." Her voice was soft, ashamed.

"It's not a favor to you," Remus clarified.

Lily nodded. "I understand. But thank you just the same."

* * *

Inequity. Relationships were all about inequity; of feeling, of power. There was always one person giving more, always one person wanting more. There were shifts; the scales would tip this way and that, but more often than not there were entrenched dynamics that made one party the giver and one party the taker. This was a principle Alida had learned from experience, and a reality she was watching play out in a rather painful way before her.

"Merlin, hasn't she humiliated herself enough?"

"Evidently she doesn't think so."

Alida could hear the voices of Regulus Black and her cousin Jillian Pucey from the other side of the tree she was leaning against. She didn't think they could see her, but they could most certainly see Maggie.

Maggie had taken to following Sirius about. Her normally stunning beauty was wilted, as the circles under her eyes and the wasting look she had acquired by not eating countered any sultry sex-appeal that may have remained. It didn't help that she hadn't been sober since the relationship's end.

Sirius ignored her.

Alida sighed. It was excruciating to watch. And sad. The saddest thing she had ever seen, in fact. Over the past week, she had watched her friend become a basket case and laughingstock about whom students whispered loudly and created betting pools.

Alida hated Sirius. It wasn't difficult. She had never liked him much, and watching his indifference toward her friend's pain was more than enough to escalate that distaste to a loathing that very near consumed her. Still, she knew. She knew that what was happening to Maggie was not Sirius' fault. Maggie had always let her emotions run unfettered, been melodramatic. Everything was life and death, and it seemed Sirius tiring of her was death.

"Rosanna Yaxley says that she hides in the stands with a Disillusionment charm and spies on him during Quidditch practice," Jillian said, contempt permeating every word.

"Really?" Regulus sounded intrigued. "I wonder if she would be willing to share details."

She snorted. "She would be willing to do that and much, much more for a bottle of Ogden's."

"I may just investigate that possibility."

Alida heard Regulus yelp as though his girlfriend had swatted him.

"That hurt!" he whined. "I meant the Quidditch practice bit."

"You can't possibly be worried," she scoffed.

"About King? No. It's Potter, McGonagall, and Vane that concern me. Our three Chasers together are worth one of them. As it is, our only chance to beat them is if I catch the snitch before those three rack up the points."

"And King is a joke, so why strain yourself?" she pressed.

"Oh, Jill," he chuckled, a dangerous course of action in Alida's estimation. Jillian's temperament was notorious. "You really don't get Quidditch."

As Alida predicted, Jillian bristled. "I see. Well, maybe you really don't get sucked off anymore."

Alida heard grass rustling as the other girl made to rise.

"Jilly, don't go," Regulus pleaded. "I apologize. I'm being a prat."

"Yes, you are," she shot back baldly.

"What can I do to make it up to you?" he coaxed.

There was an extended pause before Jillian spoke again. "Tell me what you and Severus are working on."

Regulus groaned. "You know I can't."

"Why not? I wouldn't tell anyone."

When he spoke again, he sounded uncomfortable. "I already asked Severus, and he said absolutely not."

"And you're going to do what Severus tells you to do, are you?"

"Yes," he said.

When she _humph_ed he attempted to explain.

"If I want in, I have to do what he tells me, Jill." Alida heard him shift his position. "You want me to get in, don't you?" he wheedled.

"Not if it gets you killed," Jillian whispered.

There was a long silence.

"You two are working on the same project Dexter was when he died, aren't you?" she accused softly.

"I…" he seemed to choke on the word. "I can't tell you, Jill."

"Of course you can't," she snarled.

Alida had no more than a moment's warning before Jillian rounded the tree, clearly in the middle of a dramatic exit. The two girls froze as the caught sight of each other.

"Jill wait, don't be this…" Regulus had pursued just as Jillian evidently intended, but went pale when he saw Alida sitting on the other side of the tree, her knees pulled up to her chest.

The tension was uncomfortable and fraught. Alida knew to be nervous when she saw the gears in her cousin's head turning.

She spoke before either of the Slytherins. "I'm not interested," she said. And it was true; she was shocked at how little this new information intrigued her. "Really."

"Is that so?" Jillian's tone implied that she had her doubts.

"Yes," Alida said calmly. "Do whatever you want. Just…please stop talking about Maggie that way." She fixed her eyes on Regulus, "You have no idea what your brother did to her."

Jillian was unimpressed, and Alida saw her reach for her wand. Regulus must have as well. "Don't Jill. She won't tell."

"I won't," Alida agreed. "I'll keep your secret."

* * *

If Peeves weren't a poltergeist, Lily could have killed him. She had never seen the Astronomy Tower in such disarray—and she had cleaned up his messes before. The chart tables were overturned, and the compasses, inkwells, and slide rules were strewn across the floor. Half-finished charts were blowing about in the wind, many of them having flown off the tower altogether. Several of the telescopes were broken, and one had fallen hundreds of feet to shatter on the cobbled road leading up to the castle's door. This wasn't mischief, this was a tantrum.

And the Head Boy and Girl had been sent to clean it up before classes began at midnight.

That was the part that irked Lily. She was reassessing her feelings, her idiocy, having been thoroughly shamed by both Severus and Remus. Maybe this was too fast, too injudicious. She wasn't ready to be alone with James, but that was precisely the situation she was in. At first he had been a bit like an over-eager puppy, but then he had evaluated her mood, and immediately fell back.

This made Lily feel even worse than she already did. She didn't want to alienate him, too. Obviously, she had made a mistake. The idea had been to do something out of character, to start fresh, to change, to grow. To leave the Lily who had been taken for granted by Severus behind. But it was becoming clear that this decision had unforeseen complications.

"_Reparo_ isn't working on this one," James announced.

Lily looked up. He was holding a telescope that was in two pieces. "It's not?"

He shrugged. "Or it's just my _Reparo_ that's not working."

Her brows knit.

"I'm not very good at Charms," he clarified.

Lily was surprised to hear that. By all accounts he excelled at Arithmancy, Transfiguration, and Ancient Runes—three of the most difficult studies in Hogwarts.

She held out her hands and took the telescope from him. "That's odd," she said.

"Not really," he disagreed. "It's because there's no arithmetic to it—too much variation."

"You mean subjectivity?" she teased as she cast her _Reparo_ charm silently, and the telescope mended in her hands.

He smiled at her admiringly. "Yeah. Potions, too. The books make it sound like if you follow the instructions you'll get a perfect potion."

"But it doesn't work like that," she shook her head.

"No," he agreed. "You have to have a feeling for it—an intuition," he said the last as though it was a dirty word.

She giggled. "Divination is like that, too."

"Divination is rubbish."

"I love Divination," she pretended to be offended, but knew her smile was giving her away.

"Yes, but you're daft," he returned matter-of-factly.

She laughed. "Is that really any way to speak to your girl?"

His smile faded. She, too, sobered when she realized the implications of what she had just said.

"My girl," he whispered. "Is that what you are?"

It was then that Lily became resolved. Yes, there were complications. Yes, it was too fast. But it was other things, as well. She had gone from the darkest of moods, feelings of such bitterness and guilt…to giggling. And he was the one to thank for it.

Stupid? Perhaps. But it was also exactly what she wanted.

She passed the telescope back to him. "Sure. Why not?"

He cocked a brow at her. "Because you've never liked me."

"Hmm," she pretended to mull that over. "That is a very good reason."

"Then you've reconsidered?"

"I probably should," she stalled. After waiting a moment or two and watching his face, she let him off the hook. "But I won't. Truth be told, Potter, there are many things about you I thoroughly despise, but spending so much time with you lately has taught me that there are things about you I like so much I'm very near obsessed."

He swallowed, apparently uncertain of whether or not she was serious, of where this was going.

"I like it when you make me laugh. I like how guileless you are when you are drunk. I like that you drew a bath for me, even if it was gardenia scented."

"My grandmother," he explained. "I used to draw baths for her when I was a child. Gardenia was her favorite, and that was one of the first spells I ever learned."

Lily blinked. He had to stop surprising her like this, making her re-examine all of her preconceived ideas. She didn't want him to pull her in this way—it was too intimate.

"I like your belt buckle," she reset the course of the conversation, taking care to look at him in such a way that precluded the subject of grandmothers.

He looked down at it, startled.

"What does it say?" she asked.

"_Audaces fortuna iuvat_." He was getting twitchy.

_Fortune favors the bold_? A Gryffindor to the core, it seemed. But then, she already knew that. She reached out and lifted the hem of his jumper so that she could see the buckle fully. She leaned in toward it, and his breathing became uneven.

"I like the way that you play with your tie." She straightened but did not release his jumper. "Throughout the day, you're always loosening it, tightening it, untying it, retying it, taking it off, putting it back on." She felt the nervous waver in her voice and hoped he couldn't discern it.

James' eyes were darkening. He was about to become assertive, and she wasn't ready for that yet.

"Do you like rabbits, Potter?" she heard herself blurt.

That threw him. "W-what? Rabbits?"

"Yes, rabbits."

"Not particularly."

"In my dream, you kept rabbits. Pilar thinks it's because of what rabbits symbolize, but I had hoped it was simply that my subconscious had picked up on a liking of them you had." Oh God, she was babbling now, but it was having the desired effect.

"What dream was this?"

She was in control again. Lily was unsure of why it terrified her so much to give James power, though she did have legions of theories. She knew enough to be fairly certain that she wasn't giving him due credit. Still, if they were to do this, it would have to be on her terms.

"I had it the night before last. You were a king, and I was your captive."

His eyes widened as he realized to what dream she was referring.

"I liked that," she whispered, knowing that her face had to be a glowing red.

If possible, his eyes became even wider. She was ready to give herself over to him, now that she was reassured he was in her control.

"But mostly, I like the way you kissed me last night."

He seemed somewhat frozen, but after two previous seduction attempts, she recognized it for what it was, rather than misconstrued it as disinterest. He just needed one more push.

"Kiss me, James," she whispered impatiently.

There was one second more of hesitation before he threw the telescope to the side and it clattered to the stone.

"Careful, I just fixed—"

His lips took hers and she melted. The frenzy of heat was instantaneous. He ate at her lips feverishly. His stroking tongue swept her into a daze, a shiver of lust shocking through her like a jolt of electricity both in its suddenness and its intensity. Merlin, it was just a kiss, wasn't it? She wasn't supposed to feel this way from just a kiss, she was fairly certain.

James jerked her full against his body, and pressed into her with no small force. The way he held her, touched her, was like an explosion of pent up want. As though he had longed to do this to her all day, as though he had longed to do this to her for years. It was catching. Lily was lightheaded and briefly felt her knees give, just like they had the night before. But this time, she did not want it stop here. This time, she was not going to be passive.

She steered him rearward until his back was against the wall beside the closed door that led back down to the school, and pressed her pelvis into his with every bit as much vigor. She could feel him hardening, growing, against her. The sensation caused the muscles in her belly to quiver and her grip on his arms to tighten. He still hadn't shaved and every scrape of his stubble on her cheeks and chin and neck made the blood between her legs pool hotter, pulse harder. James moaned into her mouth, and Lily felt a giddy rush at the thought that it may be every bit as intense for him as it was for her.

Snaking a hand up from where it had been wrapped around one of his biceps, she ripped the tie from his neck and dropped it to the floor. Lily's fingers immediately moved to his jumper and began tugging it upward.

"Lily!" he gasped.

"It's not too fast," she breathed against his lips. "It's not."

She couldn't make much progress with the jumper as his back was firm against the stone, so she un-tucked his shirt and trailed her hands to his hard, bare stomach. She was enjoying the feeling of his shuddering abs, when James distracted her by sliding his hands up her skirt. She moaned throatily as he caressed her thighs. Merlin help her. This was a mistake, but she couldn't seem to care enough to stop. After all this was the point, wasn't it? To be foolish, follow her hormones? Well, in for a Knut….

Lily pulled back from him, lifted her own jumper over her head, and dropped it to the ground. Her tie followed, and without hesitation she began to unbutton her shirt.

James stood slack-jawed as he watched her. Heat seemed to radiate from every bit of him, and she couldn't pull her gaze from his eyes, which were fixed feverishly on the skin she was baring.

She only felt the September air for a moment, for he stepped forward and seized her back into his grasp before she had even managed to fully unbutton the shirt. Now he was the one steering her backward until she felt the cold stone of the tower parapet against her buttocks. It was a strange sensation, the freezing chill on one side and the liquid heat on the other.

"Yes," she gasped between wet, open-mouthed kisses, urging him on as he slipped his hands into her open shirt.

His lips silenced hers, his tongue working its magic to make her head swim again. She felt his warm fingers slipping up to stroke her breasts through the lace of her bra, and she leaned into his touch readily. He cupped her with what was clearly deliberate restraint, and then proceeded to explore her in such a way that told her he was interested in remembering every millimeter of her tender skin. His thumbs swept over her nipples again and again in a torturously slow rhythm, the white lace pulling back and forth over the extremely sensitive skin, and she felt as though she would scream in frustration.

She wriggled her arms out of her shirt and the last two buttons, still securely fastened, kept it from falling to the ground. Instead it pooled at her waist and she reached behind her for the clasp of her bra. Lily leaned back slightly to impatiently divest herself of the garment.

James was gawking at her naked chest, and a strained grunt broke from his throat. She threaded her fingers through his messy hair, and pulled his lips back to hers. In the process, she pushed her breasts back into his hands, as well.

His body was pressed into hers insistently, and now she could feel a full arousal scorching hot against her belly. He was taller than she was, and though her nipples tingled for having his cock touch any part of her, even through layers of clothing, she couldn't help but whimper for wanting his heat to be hard against hers. She rose up on her tiptoes and that brought him closer, but not quite where she wanted to feel him. Before she had consciously made the decision, she had swung a leg up and around his waist and was using that leverage as well as the arms she had around his neck to climb his body that small distance.

The animalistic noise that ripped through James' throat vibrated into her mouth and buzzed beneath her skin in a tide that rolled down her body. One of his hands abandoned her chest and snuck around to cup her bum. He pulled her even harder against him and humped his hips against hers.

Her mouth broke from his to cry out, her head rolling back. She didn't know whether or not to curse the bunched wool between them. It created both padding that obscured the contact and friction that felt delicious.

"Again," she begged breathlessly, without thinking.

He groaned into her neck and complied. God, the noises he made were sexy.

His second hand deserted her chest in favor of her waist, and she felt herself being lifted off the ground. He placed her on a crenel of the battlements so that she was sitting at the perfect height. She sighed her bliss as he resumed his attention to her breasts and her other leg joined the first in clenching him precisely where she wanted him. Yet there was a niggling feeling in the back of her mind, that small sliver of consciousness that was still operational, telling her that there was something she didn't like about her new position. That there was a reason she should object to it.

It dawned on her gradually, the feeling of wrongness warring against everything James was doing to her, but was too persistent to be ignored. She was sitting on the ramparts of the _Astronomy Tower_. If she leaned back and lost her grip on her companion she could fall a good _nine_ stories to her death. This was not okay with her.

She didn't think it was possible to pull James closer or grip him any more tightly than she had been, but her panic was enough to prove that assumption wrong.

"James," she wrenched her lips from his. She tried to infuse her voice with enough purpose for him to know that she was actually attempting to get his attention, not simply to spur him on. But he was evidently too far gone to make that distinction. She would have to try again.

"James, ple—ase!" Her plea was fractured because he had surged against her in the middle of it. She was shocked at the amount of pleasure that zinged through her at the act.

The spastic, tingling sensation that started in the soles of her feet and traveled up her legs every time she was in a high place was having a rather odd effect when mixed with the desire coursing through the rest of her body. The extreme sensitivity of having her nerves on such high alert made every response she had to his touch that much more acute. The fear twisting her stomach tightened her muscles even more than the pleasure and anticipation did. Dear God, it was too much.

Just a moment before, she had wanted him to pull her down off the wall. Now she couldn't breathe with how desperately she did not want him to stop. She pushed her pelvis against his, and he responded in kind.

She caught his lower lip in hers, and bit down. Her nails dragged across his scalp and dug into the back of his neck. He growled low in his throat, and his touch became rough. _He_ became rough.

His hips jerked and rutted into hers forcefully, and her body screamed in pleasure every time he crashed against her. His hands gripped her waist to hold her in place, but she strained to meet his every thrust. His face pressed into her neck, and she cried out when she felt him bite down on the sensitive flesh there.

Lily had never experienced anything like it. Her carnal explorations were few, though she was hardly a blushing novice. Always before the experience had been tender and her partner respectful—hesitant even. She had never had a boy be so aggressive, certain in what he wanted, and so confident that she would not refuse him. Merlin, but the difference that made.

Her legs tightened their vice as she felt herself spiraling higher and higher. She was vaguely aware of her voice babbling incoherently in his ear, faster and louder as she neared her peak. Then, the dam broke and she stiffened as the ecstasy pulsed over her in waves. She clenched him in time with the convulsions, and nipped his earlobe with her teeth.

As she floated gently back down to reality, she heard herself sigh his name with a sickening degree of contentment.

"Lily," he panted in much the same manner. "Fuck." He trailed kisses along her jaw. "Fucking brilliant." His voice was somewhat muffled against her skin.

She felt herself warm at his words.

He started to pull away and Lily sobered immediately—her precarious perch rushing back to her with alarming clarity. Instinctively she clenched him close, refusing to let him budge.

"Lily, what—?"

"Don't you dare let go of me, Potter," she forbade severely.

His confusion evident, he tried to reason with her. "Lily, I, er, have a…mess I need to take care of."

"That's well and good, but you're not doing anything until you get me down."

That gave him pause. When he spoke again she had the distinct impression that he was picking his words carefully. "If you lower your legs, you will almost be able to touch the ground."

Now she was angry. "I am not moving my legs, you great arse. _You_ are going to take me down off this wall and far, far away from it."

From the way she was clutching him, she couldn't see his face, and when he spoke again she was exceedingly glad of that. "At your service, my lady," he said, his voice laced with amusement.

Her eyes narrowed. _Berk_.

His hands took hold of her waist to lift her off the battlements, but it was very near a wasted gesture. He could have simply backed up with the way she was holding on to him.

"I'm sorry," he chuckled as he carried her toward the door. About half way there he stopped and helped her untangle her legs. "I forgot how much you don't like heights."

Lily's limbs felt shaky as she stood on her own. She didn't know how much of that was the fear, how much was the orgasm she had just had, and how much was how tightly she had been gripping him. Whatever it was, her legs threatened to collapse beneath her. "I never told you I don't like heights," she said, frowning up at him.

"You didn't have to." His smirk was becoming more and more irritating by the second. "The expression on your face every time McNamara made you get on a broom made it rather obvious. And you act sort of funny in the stands during Quidditch games—you always sit in the center, and you never stand up."

She raised a brow at him. "I think perhaps you pay a little too much attention to my habits, Potter."

He laughed. "Well, we both knew that already, didn't we?" James surprised her when he leaned down and kissed the side of her mouth affectionately. "It's all right, love. I don't like closed places."

He didn't even pause as he stepped around her and bent to retrieve her clothes from the ground. She watched him, more or less bewildered. He was so…odd. Nothing seemed to embarrass him. He wanked, cheated at cards, performed poorly in studies that lacked pattern, and he was claustrophobic. Vices, sins, weaknesses, and fears—he had revealed all to her in casual, matter-of-fact conversation. Was he shameless, or simply trusting?

She caught the clothing as he dropped it into her arms. "Now pet, unless you're keen on me lifting you back up on that wall for another go, I _beg_ that you cover up."

Startled, Lily looked down at her bare chest. How on earth had she forgotten that she was half naked? She gasped and reflexively covered herself. Then she blushed, knowing that she was behaving ridiculously considering what they had just done together. She began to root through the bundle for her bra, avoiding his eyes. The git was sniggering again.

But as she moved to slip on the lacey garment, she caught his gaze and saw the undisguised interest lurking there. A nervous, ticking pulse went off in her neck, and before she knew it, she had dropped the jumper and tie to the ground. She let him watch as she slowly threaded her arms into the straps. She wasn't audacious enough to make any of her movements overtly sexual, but she most certainly took her time, allowing him to look his fill before fastening the clasp in the back.

When she reached for the shirt hanging at her hips and began to right it, she heard him sigh regretfully and he turned away. She was fastening the buttons when she heard him mumble a cleansing charm on himself to clean up the mess inside his trousers. She flushed at the thought.

James walked to the edge of the tower and looked out at the twilight. She watched as he tousled his fingers through his hair. A smile tugged at her lips and she was assailed with a rather abrupt thought. _I like him_.

It shouldn't have seemed novel, or…profound, but it did. She liked him.

"Potter?"

He turned around to face her as she knotted her necktie.

"Yes?"

"Will you come with me to Slug's Masque?"

Whatever he had been expecting her to say, it clearly wasn't that. She almost giggled at his expression.

"No."

And suddenly the last thing she wanted to do was giggle. She hadn't anticipated that answer any more than she had anticipated the devastating droop in her chest at his refusal.

"I'm banned, remember," he said, looking away and glowering at a telescope.

She couldn't help the hope that rose in her, even though there was evidence in his face that this could be his excuse, not his reason.

"I asked Slughorn this morning if it was all right and he gave me special permission."

His face brightened instantly, and Lily realized that she was being silly.

"Yeah?" he asked, grinning at her.

She nodded, biting her lip to keep from beaming back and failing. "Yeah."

"You have that kind of clout with a professor?" He was advancing on her now.

She nodded again, her smile growing wider.

"I hope you abuse it shamelessly."

"I do," she assured him. "I did this morning, because I wanted to take my new boyfriend to a party."

"Lucky bloke." James was standing right in front of her now.

"He is," she whispered, closing her eyes and parting her lips, because James was going to kiss her.

Lily mewed in satisfaction as he brushed his lips against hers. She took a step forward into his arms, and her toe nudged a telescope.

They both looked down startled as it loudly rolled away.

James smirked. "Good old Peeves." His eyes swung back to Lily's face, "You know, if I didn't hate the little shit so much I might thank him."

Lily took stock of the chaotic mess, "For what?"

He pulled her closer and nipped her nose. "For this, silly."


	8. An Adventuresome Outing

**08**

**An Adventuresome Outing**

"Come on, Lily," Daphne begged. "It's a yes or no question. We're not asking for details or anything."

"Oh, yes we are," Melody disagreed.

Lily buried her face in her book. "I am not having this conversation."

"You know what this means," Melody said conspiratorially to the other two girls. "It means that he slobbers."

"And has rank breath." Mary jumped in.

"And sweaty hands." Daphne giggled.

Melody smiled evilly. "And absolutely no idea where the clitoris is."

Lily was sure her face was redder than her hair, and she cursed her stupidity. It had seemed like a good idea a few hours ago—she had even been looking forward to it—but spending an afternoon with her former dorm-mates was overrated. All they wanted to do was talk about James.

She turned her page even though she hadn't actually finished the one she had been staring at, resisting the urge to defend her boyfriend. That was what Melody was hoping for, and it was none of her business, or anyone else's for that matter. Never mind that the whole of Hogwarts had gossiped about nothing else for the past two weeks.

To say that people were shocked would be an understatement. It was common knowledge that James Potter had humiliated himself regularly in the hopes of the barest scrap of affection from Lily Evans, and that she had turned him down every time. Word that she had caved had spread over the entire school in a matter of hours, and now whispers seemed to follow Lily wherever she went. Of course, it didn't help matters that she went many places with James. He walked her to breakfast and studied with her in the Library most nights. It was an odd shift to Lily. She had never had a boyfriend before that she could be with in the open, and the simple act of holding hands with James as they walked down the halls brought color to her cheeks.

She couldn't imagine what people would say if they knew that she had been the one to initiate the relationship. If they knew she lusted after her boyfriend so hotly that she found herself trembling if he so much as leaned in too close.

As it was, she was doing everything in her power to keep this information from James. It unnerved her, but he didn't seem all that interested in the physical side of their relationship. If she kissed him, he responded, but he rarely made the first move. It was infuriating. She was so desperate to move to the next level, but he seemed perfectly content with where they were. Every night they would snog, and every night he would put a stop to things before any clothing was removed.

The git was a seventeen-year-old boy, wasn't he? Didn't he want sex with his all too willing girlfriend? Something was obviously wrong with him, but Lily would be damned before she let him know just how impatient she was.

The sad truth of it was that she had no idea whether or not James knew where the clitoris was because he hadn't gone anywhere near that part of her body since that evening on the Astronomy Tower. But that was none of Melody's business—and heavens knew that Mary McDonald couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it. Lily wished Pilar could be here to keep Melody in check, but she was on a study date with Xavier Latchford.

"You're right, he's hopeless." She did her best to affect a bored tone, but knew she hadn't succeeded at all.

"Good," Melody said with a snicker, "then we all know for certain that you are just using him for his money."

Lily rolled her eyes, but then froze. "Wait, people aren't actually saying that, are they?"

Daphne shrugged. "People are mean."

Lily closed her book, her mind racing.

"I thought you knew," Melody said apologetically. "It doesn't bother you does it?"

Lily thought for a moment. "No," she lied. It did make her uncomfortable, but not for the reason her friends might think. The truth of it was that she did feel a bit guilty about her motives for dating James. It felt dishonest, somehow, to form a relationship with a boy on such shallow grounds.

She squirmed under the scrutiny of the other three girls. "I just don't understand why people would think that. James gets top marks, he's unmatched on a broom, and he's gorgeous. It's not as though money is all he has to offer—it's not as though he's…Reginald Warrington or something."

Melody giggled. "I'm telling Persephone you said that about her boyfriend."

Lily glared at her, and Melody laughed harder.

There was a knock on the dormitory door just before it cracked open, and a small girl with dark curls poked her head through. She shyly waited for the other girls to speak to her first.

"What is it, Marisol?" Lily asked Pilar's younger sister.

The first year opened the door wider. "James Potter is asking for you in the common room, Lily."

Lily shot out of her chair. "Oh, thank God." She quickly gathered her books and scrolls, eager to get out of the dorm and the awkward conversation she had endured since she entered. "Well, girls it's been lovely, but I'm going to be a bad friend and ditch you lot for my bloke."

Mary smiled. "Don't fret. You gave us plenty to talk about once you're gone."

"Good then," Lily approached the door. "Happy gossiping." She waved and closed the door on the giggles with relief. She loved those three, she really did, but they were exhausting.

As she rounded the corner, she saw James come into view at the bottom of the stairs and had to resist the urge to run down the last flight and jump into his arms. She didn't know why she was so thrilled to see him—it had only been a couple of hours since she left him. There was something odd going on with her, something that caused a spike of excitement every time he walked into a room, that made her disgustingly giddy.

He caught sight of her and grinned.

"Waiting for someone, Potter?" she asked as she reached him.

"As a matter of fact I am," he played along. "Bird, with gorgeous hair, about yea tall."

She pretended to be disapproving, "I think I may have seen her, but I'm not certain she'd be keen on being called a bird." She wasn't sure why, but it never seemed to bother her that he was deliberately rude in his speech. Even when he called her a bird.

He leaned in close, whispering in her ear. "Then what's say we don't tell her I said any such thing."

She shivered at the feel of his hot breath on her ear and throat. "All right then." She melted, leaning toward him as though seeking his lips with her neck.

The second she realized what she was doing, her eyes fluttered open. James was looking at her oddly, and Lily pulled back ashamed. Her plan to keep him from figuring out just how enthusiastically her body responded to his was not going so well. Worse, when she did tip her hand, his reaction wasn't overly favorable.

The blood rushed to her cheeks and Lily looked away, starting to walk towards the portrait hole and out of Gryffindor Tower.

What had happened to her? Sure, she had always been attracted to James Potter, and somewhere along the way that attraction had become intensely sexual, but she had never dreamed that it could get so out of control or that she would be alone in it. Yes, James wanted her. Yes, she could turn him on. But he had so much more restraint and command over his body. When they sat beside each other, he was able to think of things _other_ than sex. When they started kissing, he could stop. There was nothing else for it: Lily was a slag.

What angered her was that she was only a slag for James. Severus had never made her feel this way. Nor had Rafe Baxaron, the boy who lived next door to her parents and with whom she had shared her first kiss. Just this past summer, she and Rafe had taken up with each other again. Things had become quite heated, but both were content to part ways when the summer came to a close. Nothing with either boy was anything like the way it felt to be kissed by James. _He_ was the one who had driven her body mad, and he looked at her like _she_ was the one who was weird. Horrid prat.

It really hadn't been so bad before the Astronomy Tower. But ever since, the sensation of his hands, his mouth, and his hard cock rubbing against her were burned into her brain. She behaved like a bloody tart every time she was alone with him now, and sometimes when they were not quite so alone. It was mortifying and she'd had enough. The sod could snog himself if he wanted a kiss tonight.

James hurried to keep pace with her.

"Are you all right, Lily?" she could hear the uncertainty in his words.

She answered in a clipped tone. "I'm not dying."

They continued in silence the rest of the way back to the Head dormitories, though she heard him start to say something a few times, only to think better of it.

"Stinksap," she said the password to the fairy that guarded the entrance.

As soon as she and James had climbed through, he reached for her, but she pulled away and moved toward her stairs.

"Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?" he asked, pursuing her.

"No," she tossed over her shoulder.

She mounted the steps and began her climb to the top.

"Are you still going with me to Hogsmeade?"

She looked at him. He was below her, standing beside her staircase next to the banister. His brow was furrowed behind his glasses.

"Yes, I'm still going with you to Hogsmeade," she reassured him. "Just because I'm frustrated with you does not mean we've broken up."

"What does it mean?"

She rolled her eyes. "It means that I am frustrated."

He looked mildly annoyed by that response. "What do you want?" he asked point blank.

Lily considered that. The physical part of her relationship with James was not going the way she had anticipated, but that wasn't necessarily his fault. It could be that he wanted to take things slow, or that he wasn't ready for that level of intimacy, and that was his prerogative. If she pressured him, that would make her no better than the nasty blokes who did the same to their girlfriends. But there were many other reasons James fascinated her.

She leaned over the banister so that her face was close to his. "I want you to take me on an adventure."

He blinked. "An adventure?"

She nodded. "Take me on a day of mischief, to places I've never been before: secret passages, disreputable acquaintances, dodgy alleyways, and all that. An adventure, Potter." She raised a brow mockingly, "I'm sure with all your years of experience, you can cook one up for me by Saturday."

He was shaking his head in disbelief. "You really are something, you know that love?"

"Flattery is not going to get you a kiss."

"Please?"

She laughed and climbed the rest of the way up to her room. "See you in the morning, Potter."

* * *

James took a deep breath and pulled back the curtains on his friend's bed. He was going to pay for this, he knew it.

After casting _Muffliato_ to obscure their conversation in case anyone else woke up, he leaned forward and shook Remus' shoulder.

"Moony," he whispered.

Remus startled awake in panic, saw James, and then collapsed back against his pillows. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. "What do you want, James?"

It took someone who knew him to read it, but Remus was annoyed, and not at being disturbed at the unreasonable hour of six o'clock in the morning on a Saturday.

"I have a favor to ask," James braced himself as he spoke the words.

"Do you?" Remus asked flatly.

James groaned. "I'm sorry, Moony. I really am…."

Remus cut him off. "Yes, I know. _We_ know." Understanding had crept into his tone. "You have wanted Lily for a very long time, and I suppose we shouldn't be surprised. But we are not used to coming in second, James—particularly Sirius. I doubt if he'll speak to you for the rest of the year."

James nodded, feeling miserable. He'd had to make a choice: the Peeves prank with his mates, or the Halloween Masque with Lily. He couldn't have both—they were to take place on the same night, at the same time. His friends had good reason to be unhappy with him. Hell, he was angry with himself. He didn't want to go to a damned stuffy dress-up party instead of playing a brilliant prank people would be talking about for years, but…Lily. It all came back to Lily.

"What's this favor, Prongs?"

James heartened a bit. If Remus was calling him 'Prongs,' then he would do it.

"Lily," James explained, "wants me to take her on an adventure today. I have the whole thing planned out, but," he paused and then plunged, "I won't be able to get to Gladrags to pick up the costumes for the Masque."

Remus blinked at James incredulously for a moment. Then burst out laughing. "You have a never ending supply of bollocks, Prongs."

James couldn't help but smile. His friend didn't laugh often, and when he did, it was rather contagious.

"All right, I'll pick up your costumes for you."

"Yeah?" James tried to disguise his relief.

Remus nodded. "Yeah. Now get the hell out of here so I can sleep."

James knew not to press his luck, and made his way out of Gryffindor Tower before Sirius or Peter could wake up. They were a little less accepting of his choice than Remus, and he didn't want to aggravate them.

Besides, today was a day he was going to spend entirely with Lily. He didn't want to feel guilty—he didn't want to feel anything but the blissful high that came from spending time with her.

He hoped she would be pleased with what he had planned. It wasn't mischief per-se, but he didn't think that was what Lily was actually after anyway.

James wasn't blind. He knew rebound when he saw it. It was becoming more and more obvious with every interaction they had that Lily had been dumped. Some idiotic bastard had taken her for granted, tossed her aside. She was hurting, she was angry, and she was trying to prove something to herself. For that, James was thankful.

After the evening on the Astronomy Tower, all of the pieces clicked into place: he knew the hows and the whys of Lily's sudden interest in him. Her confidence had taken a massive hit and she was looking for reassurance that she was attractive, desirable. She was being reckless, aiming to feel lively, trying to get over someone. As a solution to the problem, James was the idea so crazy, it just had to work. There was no way a whole, self-assured, happy Lily would throw herself at his mercy. No way that she would be so eager for physical intimacy and so terrified of emotional. The Lily that had come to him wanted to lick her wounds with a fling, and then move on.

That should offend him, or at the very least concern him, James supposed. But it did neither. He had a difficult time caring how Lily ended up in his arms, so long as she stayed there. And James was rather confident he could convince her that she didn't want to go anywhere.

Of course, this all came down to showing her he had more to offer than the obvious, to building an emotional connection as well as a physical one, and Lily was making that as difficult as she could manage. Not only was she blocking his attempts to lower her defenses at every turn, but she was distracting him from that goal with her considerable allure.

James had always been, say…preoccupied with thoughts of getting Lily naked, of doing pervy things to her. It was natural that these thoughts should increase now that they were dating, now that he had seen her half naked. Those breasts weren't just a fantasy anymore; he knew what they looked like, what they felt like, and how their nipples stiffened at the barest touch of his hand.

_That_ was what drove him 'round the bend—not that he could put definite images in his fantasies, but that she might just be keen on making those fantasies come true. She wanted him. She wanted him bad. He didn't even need to try. It would happen at the oddest, most mundane times: he would sit too close, or let his touch linger too long, and her eyes would darken, or her breathing would quicken. It was heady in a way that dumbfounded him. Of course he had always hoped that Lily was not indifferent to him, but that she had been suppressing an attraction this intense boggled his mind and did incredible things to his body. He had never wanked so much in his life, and he wouldn't have believed he could become aroused so many times a day. He was a dirty, dirty boy, and he was obsessed.

But he was hell-bent on holding out as long as he could manage. The situation made him laugh when he thought about it. He would have wagered it would be the other way around—he pawing at her every free moment, and she slapping his hands away. The irony goaded him, but there was nothing else for it. He wanted all of her more than he wanted just her body, so he would sit on his hands, damn it. He would sit on them as long as he could bear it.

"Stinksap," he said to the fairy and the portrait swung open. As he climbed through, he saw Lily sink into a chair by the fire, yawning.

He froze for a moment. Lily was wearing a corduroy miniskirt with wooly tights and high-heeled ankle boots. She had layered a short-sleeved t-shirt over a long-sleeved one that had the words 'Thin Lizzy' written across the chest. Her hair was swept up into a bun, and hoops hung from each ear.

She looked up and caught him staring. "What's the matter, Potter? Never seen Muggle clothes before?"

"You ask me to take you on an adventure and you dress like that?" he deflected, approaching her so that he was looking down at her grumpy face. She hated mornings, as he had well learned. Really he had been struck because she looked too good for words, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

She looked down at her outfit as she slouched in her seat. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

He reached out and kicked the heel of one of her boots as it dangled inches from the ground. "You really expect to go gallivanting in those heals and that skirt?"

Lily raised her chin defiantly. "I can gallivant in whatever I like. And you told me to be ready to go at six. It's fifteen past."

He shrugged. "I knew you would be late." He held his hand out to her to pull her up. She made a face, and then took it.

When he hauled her to her feet, there was a moment when her neck was close enough to his face to kiss, and he could smell the musk of her perfume. He succumbed to the urge, pressing his lips to her throat briefly before stepping back.

"Shall we," he was careful to avoid letting her see his face. That was the best way to hide from her how close he was to cracking.

Her lips twisted. "I guess."

"Trust me," he chuckled. "I'm taking you somewhere you've never been before."

"Will I be impressed?"

"I'm not sure." He held his arm out for her. "You're quite cranky this morning."

She grumbled in response and followed him out the door. When they reached the steps leading down to the Entrance Hall, he steered her to the third floor corridor instead, and she looked at him in confusion.

It was difficult to hold back his smirk when he could tell that she was bursting to ask where they were going, but was too stubborn to break the silence. However, when he stopped her before the one-eyed, humpbacked statue of Gunhilda Gorsemoor, it seemed she was unable to help herself.

"Potter?"

"Yes?"

"I've been here before."

He laughed, stepping forward and drawing his wand. He looked both ways down the corridor to make sure that there was no one watching before tapping the statue with his wand and whispering, "_Dissendium_."

The hump opened to reveal a passage, and he heard Lily gasp.

"Hurry," he told her. "We don't have a lot of time before it closes."

Her brows furrowed. "You want me to…?"

"Climb in," he told her. She would start regretting that skirt and those heals about now.

Lily's eyes widened. "Tell me you're joking."

"No," he said, this time with more urgency. "It's going to close."

She seemed ready to protest again, but then something lit in her eyes and that Gryffindor spunk made itself useful. Finding a foothold with relative ease, she hoisted herself up onto the statue and plunged through the hole.

James only allowed himself a moment to sigh at the beauty of her barely covered arse and shapely legs disappearing through the passageway, before he climbed up himself and slid through the hole.

He was used to the stone slide and knew when to expect the end, but Lily did not. He heard her make a surprised "oof" as she landed in the dirt. A moment later, the slide spit him out and he landed on top of her, pinning her to the ground face down.

If he were honest, James would admit that he had considered the possibility of this happening, that he had hoped for it even. He had snogged Lily, had felt her wrapped around him, had experienced dry sex that was better than any actual sex he had ever had with another girl, but he had never been on top of her before. Of course, in the fantasies, it had never been this uncomfortable.

He rolled off with a groan, and heard her scramble to her feet. "_Lumos_," he said, pulling his wand out, and the tunnel filled with light. He could see Lily brushing the dirt off her outfit.

"What did I tell you about those clothes?"

She glared at him and retrieved her own wand. "_Scourgify_," she cast the spell on herself, and damned if her proficiency with Charms didn't show. When she was finished, even the ivory white of her wooly tights showed no trace of dirt. Her face was triumphant.

He just sat and watched her, keeping the fact that she had missed an adorable smudge or two on her cheeks and nose to himself.

"So," she said, her voice echoing, "where does this tunnel lead?"

James pulled to his feet. "Let's find out, shall we."

"You're obnoxious."

He spread his palms. "It's not an adventure if you know what's going to happen."

"I'm already regretting that request," she moaned as they began walking.

James leaned down and kissed her nose. "Chin up, love. Once you wake up fully, you may even have fun."

"Oh, after that slide, I'm awake."

"But still testy."

"Obviously."

Taking her hand in his, he led the way through the twisting tunnel. The smell of damp earth filled his nostrils and the only sound was the scurrying of insects and spiders. He hoped Lily wasn't the squeamish type that would shriek at the sight. But she didn't even comment on the amount of bugs, and when they came across a particularly large beetle on the floor, she stepped over it rather than around it as though she barely cared. This was a relief. But then, a girl who brewed as many potions as this one did was used to working with bugs. She seemed much more interested in the passage itself.

"How long has this tunnel been here?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," he answered truthfully. "I think it's one of the newer ones though. The soil is not as compact and the air isn't as foul. But it's not like one of the passages that has stone or fossilized wood to date it."

"How many others are there?"

"That we have found? Seventeen total, including the ones inside Hogwarts that just lead to other places in the castle. But who knows how many there are, really? My mates and I don't flatter ourselves to think that we've found them all," he said as he pulled her around a bend.

It seemed as though she was finally overcoming her early morning mood. He could hear in her voice that her irritation had given away to fascination. "How did you find _any_?"

James looked back at her and smiled. "We started by shadowing Filch. He knows the castle really well and uses the passageways all the time. After we had learned a few that way, it gave us a better idea of what to look for and how to open them once we found them. This one we discovered in reverse—we found the Hogsmeade entrance and then realized that it led back to the castle. We're fairly certain Filch doesn't know about it." He slowed down. "Watch your step through this next bit. There are quite a few hidden roots."

It took a couple steps to realize that she had stopped moving. His arm was stretched behind him, their hands still clasped. He turned around and found Lily staring at the wall of the tunnel, a look of intense concentration on her face. He froze. She couldn't possibly….

"What's back here?" she asked.

"I don't know what you mean."

Lily studied him a moment before pronouncing, "Yes, you do." Lily turned her attention back to the wall. "It looks as though there's a poorly cast glamour being used to hide an off-shoot."

James gave up pretending. "It's going to hurt Sirius' feelings that you think his glamour charms are poor." She raised her eyebrows as though taken aback that he was telling her the truth. "We dug that ourselves. It leads to our liquor stash."

She blinked. "Your what stash?"

He smiled. "We had a bit of a business for a few years, but we've closed down now."

"Business?"

"A few Gryffindors, one or two Ravenclaws, the occasional desperate Slytherin, but mostly Hufflepuffs."

She sputtered into laughter. "You're full of shit."

"No I'm not," he said defensively, but he was laughing, too. "Hand to God, those Hufflepuffs are the heavy drinkers."

"What do you have back there?"

"Well, we got rid of most of our stock when we closed shop, but we still have plenty of our own favorites. Firewhisky for Peter and Sirius, Elderflower wine for Remus, and Carombrandy for me." He was half holding his breath to see how she would react.

She was silent for a long moment. "Carombrandy?"

He smiled. "Yes. Ever tried it?"

Lily shook her head.

"We'll see what we can do about that very soon." He moved to pull her along again.

"Wait, I want to see the stash," she resisted.

"Another time, pet," he promised her. "We need to reach the end of this tunnel before seven o'clock."

"Oh," she said shrugging.

As they began walking again, he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. That seemed to make her uneasy, however.

"What?" she finally demanded.

He shook his head. "You," he answered. "Sometimes you're nothing like what I expected."

"Only sometimes?" she asked, clearly uncomfortable but trying to hide it.

"When did you stop caring how many rules I break?"

She seemed startled by his words. "I never cared about that."

He looked at her skeptically.

"Well, perhaps a little," she admitted with a tiny smile. "I didn't like how arrogant you were about it, the way you acted like you were better than everyone else who followed the rules. And maybe I was a little envious, because I've never been the sort who breaks them."

"Then…why did you hate me for so long?" _Fucking hell_, he couldn't believe he said that.

Lily stopped walking again. She looked up at him seriously, and he knew that whatever answer he was going to get, it was going to be the truth. Did he even want the truth?

Well, it was a little late for that question he supposed.

"Because you were a bully. Because you picked on people weaker than you to make yourself feel clever. Because I used to have to put right the first years you jinxed." Lily looked down at where their hands were joined. "Now I believe that you didn't realize the extent of the harm you were causing, that you thought you were just playing—but there is a reason most third years avoid you. I've only ever seen you be _deliberately_ cruel to one person." Her voice swelled a bit with emotion, wavering her words. "And you were _very_ cruel to him."

And Lily loved him. James had always known that. Maybe that was why he had been so ruthless in his torment of Snape. She had loved him then, and it was clear that she loved him still.

James' reflex was to defend his actions, defend himself. But he couldn't bring himself to. After all, what could he say? What was there that could justify any of it? She was right; he had been an incredible bastard. He knew that—it was one of the reasons he had reformed his life over the past year and a half. It had taken a loud and rude awakening, but James was determined to be a better man than he was a boy.

But he couldn't tell her that story. Not yet. Maybe not ever. There was only one thing he could say.

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "You never bullied me."

"No, but when I hurt him, I hurt you." He squeezed her hand, though he knew it was a hollow gesture. "And I'm sorry."

Her expression was tender. "Potter, I wouldn't be here if I didn't think you were trying to be different."

He swallowed.

Her tone changed slightly, as though she were trying to change the topic of the conversation. "Of course, I don't think you are trying to be as different as you would like people to believe, and I'm not sure about you having earned that Head Boy badge."

James laughed, relieved to follow her lead and leave the subject behind. "Oh, I'm fairly certain I didn't earn it—still can't figure out what Dumbledore was thinking."

Lily rose up on her toes a bit and kissed the side of his mouth softly. "He was probably thinking the same thing I am. That you needed an opportunity to show the kind of person you could be."

"And how do you think that's going?" he asked her, a stupidly huge grin on his face.

She shrugged. "About fifty/fifty."

He laughed. Merlin, he wanted to kiss her, but she was already pulling him along, resuming their trek. He quashed any disappointment he felt and simply walked with her. At least she had never let go of his hand. They reached the bottom of the stairs leading upward toward Hogsmeade, and began the ascent.

Quite a few minutes later, they had arrived beneath the trapdoor.

"Now can I know where we are?"

He lifted his cuff to look at his watch. "Honeydukes. They're set to open in a few moments, so we're right on time. We're going to need to slip out of there unseen."

"And how are we going to do that?" she asked.

With a roughish grin, he pulled his Invisibility Cloak from his pocket.

* * *

"Severus?" Regulus interrupted his reading.

Severus looked up from his book and fought the urge to growl at the younger boy. "What is it?"

"An owl came for you," he said as he held out a letter.

As soon as Severus saw the Malfoy seal in black wax on the envelope, he snatched it from the outstretched hand. He cracked the seal impatiently and unrolled the parchment.

"What is it?" Regulus asked keenly as he read.

"It seems I'm going to Hogsmeade after all," Severus said.

"Do you need me to be there, too?"

"No," he responded without hesitation. "Keep Jill occupied so that she's not poking around." Severus rose and retrieved his cloak from the hook beside his bed.

"Do you think it's more bad news?"

Severus sneered. "After the changes made last month? I doubt it."

* * *

"What's the matter, Evans? You're not afraid of a few little ghosts are you?" James taunted.

Lily tapped her foot. "I think we may have crossed the line from adventurous, to psychotic."

"I'm asking you to climb through a window, love, not drown a puppy."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

He made a face. "It should."

James was perched on the windowsill of one of the ground floor windows of the Shrieking Shack, one leg inside the building, and the other leg dangling outside. He knew it was probably a bad idea to bring her here, but the opportunity was too tempting to pass up. They were in the back of the building, the side facing away from the road, and James had been careful in steering their approach so that no one would see that they were there. There was only one way to enter the Shack from the outside and it involved a lever disguised as a nail and a password Remus had set. In fact, as far as James was concerned, this building belonged to Remus. It was how his secret stayed a secret, so although James had decided he wanted to take Lily to see it, he knew the Whomping Willow passage was absolutely out of the question. Even using the outside entrance that the Marauders had installed without Dumbledore's knowledge and permission required discretion. He didn't want her to be able to come back here on her own, so James had been careful to not let Lily see or hear how he had opened the window, distracting her by hitting her with a tickling jinx. When he lifted it, he found her bad temper had returned.

"I'm quite fond of puppies," he told her.

"And kittens?" she mocked.

"And ducklings, and piglets, and lambs."

She raised a brow. "But not bunnies?"

James rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Yes, bunnies are evil. Will you just take my hand?" He was trying not to laugh.

"Will you apologize?"

He lost the battle and a few chuckles slipped out. "All right, all right. I'm sorry I jinxed you."

"You're such an arse," she said, but there was no venom in her words. Stepping forward lightly, picking her way through the waist-high weeds, she took his hand.

As he helped lift her over the sill, she asked, "How many times today are you going to ask me to climb?"

For a moment she was practically straddling his lap, her skirt having ridden up and her tights leaving little to the imagination. He pretended not to notice, but couldn't help but pull her close for a kiss. Kissing Lily was always dangerous, because one taste seemed to make him ravenous, and yet sometimes he couldn't help himself.

"Really, Lily," he said softly as they broke apart, "have you _ever_ done anything fun?"

She ignored his question and kissed him again. He had forgotten that Lily was every bit as randy as he was. His body was already beginning to respond and their tongues hadn't even touched yet. This was not good.

Abruptly, he seized her waist and lifted them both into the room. He set her on her feet and pulled back. She swayed as though her legs were a bit unsteady, and he made the mistake of looking at her face. Her eyes were still closed, an expression of longing etched in her features. How, in the name of all that was magical, was he supposed to resist this girl?

"So, this is the kitchen," he announced, his voice unnaturally high.

Her eyes opened begrudgingly, and he looked away.

The room they were standing in had once been rather homey and pretty, but disuse and filth had transformed it eerily. The once bright wallpaper was peeling and a coat of dust covered the counters and table. The tile floor was cracked in several places, spider webs dangled from the lamps, and a cupboard door was broken off its hinges.

"Lovely," she said.

He took her hand. "Let me show you the rest of it."

He led her through the doorway and into the sitting room. This room had seen the worst of Remus. Every piece of furniture had been gouged and ripped with claws or chewed with teeth. There was less dust, because every full moon, this was where he and his friends holed up until it was late enough to go exploring.

"What happened here?" Lily's voice was awed as she gazed at a chair that had been broken into three pieces.

He put his finger to his lips, and then whispered. "Haven't you heard? This place is haunted."

Lily raised a brow. "No kidding." She inclined her head to the mess. "But ghosts didn't do this." Crouching, she examined some of the claw marks. "Some kind of animal did this."

He knelt beside her. "I heard," he paused dramatically and looked around as though checking to see if anybody was listening, "that it was a chimera."

She stared at him a moment, then burst out laughing.

"What?" he demanded.

"You," she said. "You and your bollocks."

"You're not scared at all?" James couldn't help but be a little disappointed.

She shook her head. "You wouldn't bring me here if it were dangerous. I'm fairly certain that you know what tore up this room, and you know that it isn't here right now."

Shaking his head, he said, "No, it's not here now."

Lily rose to her feet and James followed suit. "Are there even ghosts?" she asked curiously.

He considered for a moment whether or not to pretend. He sighed. "Please don't tell anyone, but no, there are no ghosts. That's just a rumor Dumbledore started—but he started it for a reason."

She was studying him, a look he couldn't read coming over her features. Finally, she nodded. "Okay, I won't tell anyone."

It wasn't until that moment that James was able to admit to himself why he had brought her here. Fucking hell, but he was a besotted arse: he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her everything—that he and his mates were Animagi, that Remus was a werewolf, that this shack had been converted into a refuge for his friend's transformations.

For a moment he was puzzled. After all, he had never wanted to tell any other girl he dated these things, not even Alida, and he had dated her for over a year. Then he was angry with himself. He had already come dangerously close to hinting at the truth, and she knew and suspected more than she should. This wasn't his secret to tell, and he barely knew Lily. It didn't feel like that most of the time, perhaps because he had observed her enthusiastically for years, but he was fast learning that there were aspects of her that he never dreamed existed, sides of her he had never seen. He wanted to believe that she was trustworthy, but they were just starting out. There were no bonds, no commitments between them. He had not earned her loyalty and she had not earned his. This was not a secret to be taken lightly. Remus' life would be much more difficult than it already was if it got out, and Sirius, Peter, and James had crossed ethical and legal lines out of love for their friend.

There was no getting around it, James was a bloody idiot.

"What's upstairs?" she broke through his reverie.

It took him a moment to answer. "Breakfast."

She was taken aback by that. "Breakfast?"

He nodded, forcing a roguish smile. "I had some of my friends in the Hogwarts kitchens prepare us a basket. I came by earlier to set it up—it's waiting upstairs."

She smiled up at him in a way that made his heart pound. Rising up on her tiptoes, she pulled his head down for a kiss. "You're hell of a bloke, Potter."

* * *

Severus was leaning against the railing on the first floor of Gladrags Wizardwear, watching the door. It was not yet eight o'clock, so the shop was fairly empty, but would soon fill with students. Most of the shoppers currently browsing through the racks and tables of merchandise were on the ground floor, few making their way upstairs to where Severus stood.

Lucius, as always, was late. He swept into the shop with the same flair he carried with him everywhere, a billowing cloak lined in royal blue sweeping the floor and a beaver hat set on his head at a jaunty angle. Severus was unable to suppress a sneer. Lucius had no understanding of 'low profile.'

"Good morning, Severus," Lucius greeted when he reached his friend's side.

"And to you, Lucius," Severus replied as he watched the vain blond man remove his silk gloves.

Reaching into the pocket of his cloak, Lucius withdrew a package tied with string. "I picked up a little something for your birthday."

Severus took the package. "Would it be that broom handle polish I asked for?"

"It would."

Severus pocketed the package carefully. "And how fairs your uncle?"

"Well." Lucius leered at a sales witch as she passed. "He encourages you to use that polish as soon as you are able. He disapproves of how you have neglected your broom care."

Severus strove to control a glower. If the Dark Lord was so impatient to have this damned concoction finished, he should have done it himself. "Reassure your uncle that broom care is my top priority."

"Of course." Lucius smiled indulgently. "Now Severus, I really must be going. I have an appointment with my bride to be."

Severus nodded, eager to get back to the castle to open the package of ingredients that the Dark Lord had just sent him, but when Lucius turned to go, he froze.

"Gracious me, is that Sirius Black?"

Severus followed his line of sight to see Black, Lupin, Pettigrew, and Lily's friend Melody McGonagall speaking with the shop owner on the ground floor. The four of them were facing the opposite direction, thankfully, and hadn't seen the two young men above them.

"Yes."

Lucius paused a moment as though considering his next words carefully. "I would keep an eye on him if I were you, and on his friend Potter. Thieves. At Roddy and Bella's wedding this past summer, they snooped where they oughtn't and stole a gift Uncle had intended for Cousin Dexter." He looked at Severus gravely. "I'm afraid poor Dexter is a bit worse off for it."

Severus' eyes widened. Something in his stomach went cold, and it became almost impossible to breathe. Fear; he was feeling it more and more often. Courage was not something that came easily to him, and he couldn't help but be resentful. His decision to become a Death Eater should have given him more power; more power so that he had less that could threaten him. And yet, since he joined, he had spent every waking moment watching his back, and every night with restless nightmares.

Now he was being told that Black and Potter were partially responsible for that. Dexter Pucey's death had preoccupied his mind since he took over this project. A strong young man cut down by an Auror—one moment alive shaking Severus' hand at a banquet, the next morning missing. Dead. The Dark Lord knew; he always knew. They couldn't find the body, but the Dark Lord could no longer feel his Mark.

Severus spoke slowly. "Do you believe that they have been…recruited by your uncle's enemies?"

Lucius shook his head. "That's not certain. But, as I warned, keep an eye on them."

As Lucius made his way out of the shop, Severus' jaw hardened. Potter and Black. He was through being afraid of them. Pucey may have gotten sloppy, but Severus would not be so foolish.

* * *

The Hog's Head was far filthier than Lily had recalled being told in various accounts and rumors. The odor of spoiled food wafted from the kitchens, and of uncovered alcohol from the bar. Filmy dust enclosed every surface that was not in use daily. The sawdust that sprinkled the floor had mud, spilled liquor and food, and many things Lily did not recognize mixed in it. The pictures and paintings that hung from the walls had been splattered and never cleaned, and the scrubbed wood tables were scratched and disfigured with carvings.

Lily smiled at James. It was insane, but after the Shrieking Shack turned out to be so much more bark than bite, the Hog's Head wasn't so intimidating. That last stage of their date had validated her expectations: James knew what he was doing. He was familiar with these places that had previously frightened her and could navigate them easily. She realized that it was childish, but she felt emboldened with his hand in hers.

Besides, it was so early in the morning that there were no customers, and, as James had informed her, the customers were what you needed to worry about in the Hog's Head.

James led her to the bar and she followed. He rang the bell as she hopped up onto a stool. When he took a perch beside hers, she was somewhat surprised that he sat toward her instead of facing the bar and rested one of his feet on the bottom rung of her barstool, wedging his knee between hers. Her breath caught just for a moment at having any part of him between her legs, but he did it with such casual inattention, she had to wonder if it was just habit.

There was a moment of silence before a man emerged from the kitchens. He wore a long white beard and tattered clothes. There was a wild look about his eyes and a sleepy way about his walk, yet there was something that struck her about him—almost as though she had met him before, but could not place him.

"Good morning, Fergus," James greeted, but the old man merely grunted. "We would like two Butterbeers please."

Fergus reached under the bar and rifled around for a moment. When he rose with two bottles in his hand, James had already placed his money on the bar.

Lily took the bottle as he held it out to her. "Thank you, Fergus," she said politely.

The man's brows rose, and there was a twinkle in his eye. If she didn't know better, she would say that there was something funny. James seemed to think so, too, as she heard him snigger to her right.

Without a word, the barkeep took the money, deposited it in the till, and went back to the kitchens.

Lily looked at James who had already opened his bottle and was taking a drink. "Did I miss something?"

"His name is not Fergus."

"But you called him Fergus."

"Yes, I did," he took another swig and then set his bottle down. "Sirius and I were in here one time and Sirius was a bit pissed. He asked the old man what his name was, but he wouldn't answer. So Sirius started trying to guess, but the old man just stared at him. After two bottles of Firewhisky, Sirius decided his name was Fergus."

Her hands paused in their task of opening her bottle. "So…you just named him?"

James shrugged. "He answers to it."

Lily didn't have much of a reply to that, so she took a sip of her drink instead.

"Speaking of things people call each other," he continued, changing the subject. "I've been meaning to ask you all morning why you wish to be addressed as 'Thin Lizzy'."

It was her turn to laugh. "I don't. They're just a band I like."

"A band?"

She nodded. "Yes, a Muggle rock band out of Ireland."

"Oh," he said. "Like the Sphinx Herders or Twenty Inch Wands."

"No," she shook her head, horrified.

"No?"

"Better," she told him. "So much better."

"Better?"

"Trust me on this one, Potter. I've heard both, and Muggle rock is so much better than Wizard rock."

Now he looked offended. "I love Twenty Inch Wands."

She smiled wryly. "I'm sure you do."

"I own all their albums."

She wrinkled her nose. "Bin them. I'll get you some real music."

"I have plenty of real music," he informed her. "Tattooed Unicorns, the Unforgivables, Merlin's Beards…" he ticked each one off on a finger.

Lily made a face and retaliated. "Pink Floyd, the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin…."

"What kind of band names are those? What the hell is a 'zeppelin'?"

He was impossible. She rolled her eyes. "A zeppelin is a flying—" She stopped abruptly because she felt claws scraping her leg through her tights and looked down.

She let out a shrill scream when she saw a dirty, hairy black rat climbing her leg. James reacted so fast she didn't even see him draw his wand.

"_Stupefy_!"

The rat fell from her flailing leg and landed unconscious on the floor; the barkeep ran in from the kitchen with a butcher's cleaver clenched in one hand. James was gazing at her with undisguised concern, his wand still at the ready in his fingers, and Lily did the only thing she could manage under the circumstances. She laughed. It came on as a sputter, but exploded into hysterical peals. She collapsed forward onto the bar, her head banging into the wood—which only made her laugh harder.

"I think," she heard James say slowly to the proprietor, "that we are going to take our drinks with us and get out of here."

* * *

"Auguries?" she asked.

"I've seen one or two," James replied.

"Imps?"

"Many." James picked his path through the high grass at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He and Lily were walking back to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade, but had left the road in favor of walking close to the trees. She had turned to interrogating him about the Forest and what lived in there.

"Kelpies?"

He shook his head. "Not in the Forest ponds, but there is more than one in the Black Lake."

She smiled at that answer. Mental—the girl was mental. After she had calmed down and stopped her laughing, she had been in an unutterably cheery mood. What girl reacted that way to being accosted by a rat?

"Wild Aethonan?"

"Not that I've seen."

She was less happy with that answer. "Unicorns?"

He grinned. "Of course."

"Werewolves?"

He laughed. "Only on full moons."

"Of course." She shrugged, but his smile faltered as he thought he saw something shrewd in her eyes. "Acromantulas?"

"Yes," he jolted from his discomfort. "There's a nest near the center of the Forest."

He had said it with complete seriousness, but she giggled. "You're full of shit, Potter."

He was irritated by that response. Sure he had tried to tease her in the Shrieking Shack, but otherwise he had been completely honest with her all day. Yet she seemed to always believe that he was lying. "I'm not kidding," he told her.

She stopped walking and looked up at him, smiling serenely. "Take me to see the unicorns," she said.

He sighed. For a moment he tried to think of a way to get out of it. He was in bad standing with both the Centaurs and the Acromantulas, but it was unlikely they would run into either on this side of the Forest, and it just so happened that they were near the unicorn herd. It wasn't what he'd had planned next, but it would do. "All right," he gave in.

Her hand was in his before he asked for it, and he looked both ways to see if they were being watched before pulling her into the trees.

"Um, Potter?" she said as they made their way into the thick growth.

"Yeah?"

"Shouldn't we find a path first?"

He smiled, though she was behind him and couldn't see it. He loved how she was trying to disguise the concern in her voice, but was failing miserably.

"There is one, just up ahead."

Sure enough, a few minutes later they stumbled onto a path that cut its way through the trees and bushes, leading windingly in both directions.

"This way," he pulled her to the left. He wasn't certain how far down the path the herd would be. This was their territory, but every few days they would move along to a new clearing.

She huffed behind him. "Is there anywhere you haven't been, Potter?"

"Your bed," he teased, throwing a leer over his shoulder.

Lily chuckled, and moved closer to keep pace. This path, like the one in the tunnel, was too narrow for them to walk side by side, so he led the way. He was beginning to doubt himself and his sense of direction when they passed three clearings without a trace of a unicorn, but as they entered the fourth, the entire herd came into sight.

The quadrupeds were milling about, most of them eating, but a few lying in the patches of sunlight. Their horns gleamed and their shiny manes reflected the light brightly. A few golden foals were chasing one another about, weaving through their mothers' legs. As the group passed near where Lily and James were standing, one filly halted, seeming fascinated and fully distracted.

Lily dropped his hand and stooped to pick some grass. She approached the small unicorn carefully, crooning to it softly. James watched, leaning back against a tree, unable to keep the corner of his lips from tugging upwards. She was such a girl sometimes.

When she was close enough, she lowered herself to sit in front of the foal. Extending her arm, she urged it to take the grass from her hand. The filly was blinking at Lily curiously, probably never having seen a human before, and too young to be wary of strange creatures. It inched its way forward, cocking its head this way and that as it observed the girl offering it food. Its nostrils working furiously, it leaned forward to smell Lily's hand. It took a sniff or two and then reeled backward, neighing its alarm. Its gangly legs tripping over themselves as it scrambled away to hide behind its mother.

James was startled for a moment, watching the scene with dismay. But then comprehension dawned and he laughed. Perhaps if the circumstances had been different his reaction would have been as well, but the baby unicorn's actions and the expression on Lily's face were too amusing.

"Been awhile since you offered a unicorn food, Evans?" he taunted.

She glared back at him confused, but then her face changed when she realized why the foal had refused to take food from her hand.

James couldn't help a spike of bitterness that rose in his throat. The suspicion that had been growing in his mind since the night she had asked him to be her boyfriend had been confirmed: Lily was not a virgin.

It didn't really come as much of a shock, considering the way she had behaved over the past couple of weeks, and he was learning every day that there were a great many things he did not know about Lily. But this revelation chafed a bit, because Lily had never had a steady boyfriend and that begged the question of whom?

James was not an irrational young man; this was a puzzle he had been preparing himself for since the evening on the Astronomy Tower. Lily was far too eager and willing to be an innocent, and she had a cursory knowledge of the male anatomy that belied experience, but not much. She still blushed, and the way she touched him suggested enthrallment with the new. When he touched her, there were times when her eyes would widen with surprise, as though she were taken off guard, either by his actions or her reaction to them.

So, not a virgin, but not jaded, either.

This 'caution be damned' thing she was doing, that was new. He didn't believe that she threw herself at blokes regularly the way she had done with him. The smartest bet was the boy who had dumped her, the one she was trying to get over. And there was only one boy James had ever seen Lily spend extended periods of time with, only one boy he knew that she loved, and….

James couldn't make himself think the name—he didn't want the visual. He didn't even want to admit the possibility.

But the truth was, such speculations were meaningless. It didn't matter who she had slept with. What mattered was whether or not he wanted Lily. Yes, she was a different girl than he had previously thought. She liked Divination, and refused to eat lamb, and listened to Muggle rock and roll. She was impossible in the morning, and tapped her fingernails on her teeth while she studied, and thought Quidditch was boring. Added to that list now was that she was not a virgin. The fall from the pedestal had arrived. Did he still want her? The answer was yes, emphatically so. So why torture himself? He didn't want to know. As far as he was concerned, it could have been some Muggle sod from her neighborhood, and he would leave it at that. If he didn't, he would just drive himself crazy.

Lily smiled shyly. "A few years in fact."

_A few years_? _Bloody hell_….

"Potter, may I ask you a personal question?" Her face was bright red now, and she was pulling a blade of grass apart fretfully. "You don't have to answer."

He nodded. "All right."

"How many girls have you been with?"

To say he was taken off guard by her question would have been an understatement. He shifted uncomfortably against the tree. This was not a conversation he wished to have. He sighed. He supposed he could tell her it was none of her business—and it wasn't. But if she wanted to know, he wasn't ashamed of anything he had done.

"Seven."

Her eyes flared wide. "Seven?"

"You asked."

She looked down at her hands. "Yes, I suppose I did." She swallowed. "How old were you when you lost your virginity?"

"Fourteen."

"Fourteen?" She was so alarmed by his answer he couldn't help but smile.

He walked over and sat beside her on the grass. "Integra Towler," he told her.

Lily blinked at him, "But…she's two years older than…."

James shrugged. "Most of the girls I've been with were older." In fact he had developed quite the reputation for shagging the more mature witches of his Quidditch team during his fourth and fifth years, and he and Sirius competed for bedpost notches, but he wasn't about to divulge that.

She was silent. That silence stretched, became awkward, and then was broken when Lily cleared her throat and began to speak. "I've only been with—"

"Stop," he held up his hand.

She bit her lip, ending her sentence.

"I don't want to know," he tried to make his words sound as casual as possible. "Not numbers, not names. It doesn't matter to me."

Lily nodded slowly. "Sorry."

He shook his head, "Don't be. I just don't want to have to hate a perfectly decent bloke all of the sudden." He was sure to make it sound as playful as possible, praying that she would just let the subject drop.

She smiled, her eyes studying him.

"What?" he asked finally.

"I just…" she visibly struggled for words before blurting, "like you."

"You like me?" he chuckled.

She nodded earnestly. "I like you."

James' eyebrows shot up as he studied her face. The words came out 'I like you' but they sounded much more like 'I'm falling for you'—which was exactly what he was hoping for.

"Yeah?" he grinned, his voice almost at a whisper. "I like you, too." His heart was pounding fast and hard.

And then he did something he probably shouldn't have. He leaned over, cupped her cheek in his hand, and kissed her. It was, perhaps, a tad too eager, but he couldn't follow her declaration with anything but enthusiasm.

She made a startled noise, but adjusted quickly. As always, she responded to his touch with gusto that threatened to make him loose all control. Her fists gripped handfuls of his cloak to pull him closer. Her lips parted and she coaxed his tongue into her mouth. This time he didn't try to hold back or pull away, he threw himself into it full-force. Usually he favored a gentler, more lingering approach, but something about kissing Lily made that impossible. One hand continued to caress the side of her face, but the other swept, without preliminary, underneath her layered t-shirts. The skin of her stomach was soft, and he could feel her erratic breathing beneath his callused palm.

Lily was not content with being submissive for long, and he grunted in surprise when she pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him. She attacked his mouth before he had time to catch his breath. Her thighs straddled him, and his wandering hands registered that her miniskirt had again ridden up to her hips. His fingers traced the line of her panties beneath her tights, wondering if they were white lace like the ones she had worn on the Astronomy Tower, or something else.

James was assailed by one of his favorite fantasies, the one that had got him through years of Binns' lectures. He would stare at her and imagine what it would be like to be beneath her desk: Lily sitting near the edge of her seat, but reclining back; her wool skirt flipped up and piled on her stomach; her knickers down around her ankles, resting on her maryjanes; her hands beginning to tremble as he gripped to tops of her kneesocks and spread her thighs. He had spent hours and hours of his life that should have been devoted to learning about Goblin rebellions and Centaur treaties imagining what it would be like to taste Lily, to explore every bit of her cunny with his tongue.

Recalling those pervy daydreams now made him salivate. His arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her firmly against him. He used his other arm as leverage, and rolled the both of them so that he was now above her. She moaned in protest, and he lifted his lips from hers to trail kisses on her jaw.

"Don't be angry, love," he said in panted breaths.

Her fingers slid into his hair. "But I wanted to be on top."

James smiled against her neck, pausing between kisses. One of his hands slipped down to deliver a feather light touch between her legs. She gasped throatily at the action and her hips strained toward him. "And I wanted to taste you here."

"Oh," she managed, sounding a bit faint. "All right then."

He chuckled as he buried his face in the warm, sweet smelling skin just above her collarbone. His roving fingers pushed her skirt even higher so that they could grip the waistband of her tights and pull them downward. The elastic was more stubborn than he would have guessed, and he had to wrestle to get it below her knees and down to her ankles. But the panties…he wanted to see those before he removed them.

James finished kissing his way down her chest and belly, and pulled back slightly when his hands brushed satin. Yellow satin with lace trim, soaked through with her cream. He groaned at the sight, his cock becoming even harder in his trousers.

His gaze darting up to her darkened emerald eyes, he asked, "Does the bra match?"

In place of a reply, she propped herself up on her elbows and lifted her t-shirts over her head. Her pale skin glowed in the sunlight as she lowered herself back onto the grass. The same buttery satin covered her breasts, lace lining the tops of the cups and accentuating her cleavage.

He knew he was staring at her like she was the first scantily clad witch he had ever seen, but he couldn't help it. "You're fucking spectacular, Evans. You know that?"

A blush swept her cheeks, but she smiled. "You want me to take it off?"

"God, yes."

She lifted herself again and unhooked the clasp behind her. As she let the garment drop, James heard himself make a noise that was embarrassingly wholehearted. Sirius had always teased James that Lily's breasts were nothing to get excited about. 'Nigglers,' he had called them, barely more than bee stings. But Sirius was wrong, so very wrong. Yes they were small, but her nipples were a blush pink that darkened and hardened under his touch. Lily's breasts were gorgeous, responsive, and bare before him.

He reached for them, distracted from his earlier task. He mouth found one of her already erect nipples and tugged it lightly with his teeth. She made the most tempting whimpers when he fondled her there. He gave the nipple a vigorous suck and her hips bucked beneath him, her wet panties rubbing wantonly on the leg of his trousers.

"James," she whimpered. "Please."

"Please what, pet?"

She bit her lower lip and, suddenly shy, averted her eyes when he looked up.

He trailed his nose up her body and kissed her ear. "Tell me," he commanded in a whisper.

"Please," she was breathing unevenly against his neck, "…do…what you said you were going to do."

He couldn't help but laugh at her shyness. He brushed his lips against hers. "At your service."

His fingers slid beneath the waistband of her knickers, and he began to tug them down her legs. James couldn't help himself; under normal circumstance he would be kissing her while he removed her panties or lavishing her breasts with attention, but this was the first time Lily's cunny would be bared before his eyes, and he couldn't seem to do anything but watch as her auburn curls came into view. A shade darker than her bun, her pubic hair was dewed with her arousal, and her scent hit him like an oncoming train.

Her knickers had barely joined her tights at her ankles before his mouth descended on her. Spreading her lips with his fingers, James licked from her entrance to her clit. Lily made a keening noise, something between a gasp and a moan, and he attacked her like a starving man. He made every effort he could manage to take his time, to tantalize. But once again the simple fact that the girl beneath his hot tongue was Lily coupled with her response made the effort Herculean.

Lily's thighs flexed against the sides of his head as though resisting the urge to wrap themselves around him. Her taste was intoxicating and every sweep and flick of his tongue made his trousers more and more uncomfortable. He was quickly losing his head, rationalizing the urge to just unzip himself and shag her.

_Not yet_, he pleaded with his cock. _Not yet_. Not until she saw him as more than a fuck.

Oh God, the wait was going to kill him.

He brought his hand up to tease her entrance with his finger. She was wet. Dripping, sopping wet. The mere thought that she was this horny and that he was the one that had got her this horny, made him dizzy—made his hands shake.

James slipped his finger inside her while he lapped her beautifully swollen clit. Her slick channel clamped down on his finger and squeezed. He choked a bit and grunted at the thought of how she would feel on his cock. She was so tight.

_Fuck_, his control was slipping. He needed to speed this up before he embarrassed himself. He inserted a second finger, now deliberately targeting that bundle of nerves on the wall of her tunnel. He suckled gently on her clit, his tongue flicking and rubbing it.

Lily became frenzied, her hips gyrating against his mouth, and her legs jerking restlessly. She was making moans and whimpers and squeaks in her throat, and he could tell that she was close. He increased his pressure and heard her cry out as he pushed her over the edge. He froze for a moment to let the noise wash over him, but then resumed his strokes, this time slower and gentler, to prolong her climax as long as possible.

When her core stopped pulsing he lifted his head and withdrew his fingers. He licked his digits clean and then wiped his mouth. His gaze fell to the girl sprawled out on the grass before him, still naked save for the skirt bunched at her waist. Her flame colored hair had come loose of its bun and her face was pink from exertion. Her eyes were still closed, and he could see that she had bitten her lip at some point. Beside her were piles of grass she had uprooted in handfuls.

She was far too sexy, and he found himself plagued with the desperate urge to climb atop her and slake his incessant lust with a rough shag. To help control himself, he reached down and began to pull her knickers back up so that at least she wasn't prone and open. It only helped so much, however, because he could still taste her on his lips.

Her eyes fluttered open. "Well," she said, "that was new."

James seized the diversion. "New?"

"No boy has ever…done _that_ to me before."

He couldn't help the pride that rose in his chest. "Yeah?"

She nodded and sat up, her breasts jiggling in fascinating ways. "Yeah." She pulled him into a kiss.

Merlin, she was a dangerous girl. If he wasn't careful, he would just fall deeper and deeper until he was nothing but a whipped ponce. Her bare breasts were pressed into his chest and he was still seated between her legs. He pulled back before he got himself in any more trouble. His cock was aching for release.

When he averted his eyes and looked around the clearing, his lust-fogged brain registered that there was something strange. After a moment it hit him that the unicorn herd had completely disappeared. He barked a surprised laugh and felt her startle against him.

"What?" she asked alarmed.

"Look around." He gestured with a jerk of his head.

She took in their surroundings. "Where did they go?" she asked.

James dropped a kiss on her neck. "I think those unicorns disapprove of you now much more than before."


	9. The Marauders' Revenge

**09**

**The Marauders' Revenge**

Lily was missing a shoe. She didn't know why it was missing. She hadn't even worn this particular pair since she had arrived at school in September, yet somehow she had managed to misplace the left one. The best route to finding it, she supposed, lay in following her mother's advice and cleaning her room.

It was always an atypical set of circumstances that led to Lily cleaning her bedroom. Ever since she was a small child and she had slept in a trundle bed beside her sister, she'd had a difficult time keeping her room clean. Petunia was fastidious; Lily was messy. Petunia was organized; Lily was scattered. Lily was unsure how much of that was her natural tendency, how much was a reaction to her older sister's personality and the perpetual desire every child had to be unique from their siblings, and how much was a passive-aggressive way to get under Petunia's skin. The lines between those three factors merged and blurred. But whatever the causality might be, Lily still kept an untidy room even years after her parents had moved them into a bigger house where the girls no longer had to share a space, and even at Hogwarts.

Lily tossed one of her Astronomy books with a little too much force. She didn't like thinking of her sister. It led to all sorts of mixed feelings—regret, anger, hurt, resentment—and usually she wound up crying or snapping at the next person unfortunate enough to happen by. Perhaps Petunia and Severus should start a goddamned club.

Regardless, she needed the shoe. Her sage green heels matched her dressrobes, and the masque was tonight, so tidying her room became priority one. Merlin, did she always have this many books? And how did they all end up under her bed? _Maybe if I would just take them back to the library when they are due_, she thought ruefully. _Experimental Brews Throughout History_ was a good three weeks late.

_Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms_? Her brows knit. She was certain she had used this very book in class just a few days ago. Lily rose to her feet and made her way over to where she had thrown her bag after classes on Friday. Setting the book she had found under her bed on the desk, she rifled through the bag and withdrew an identical copy. That was strange. She opened the book in her hand to the back cover. Underneath the bolded words 'This book is the property of' her own name was scrawled in her loopy signature. She dropped it back into the bag and reached for the one that had been buried under her bed.

"This book is the property of _Alida Ackerley_."

Oh…shit.

…How? How the hell did _this_ get in her room?

Surely that timid cow had never been up here before. She had been in the common room many times, but Lily had been sure to lock her door extensively, not trusting that James wouldn't find a way to circumvent the enchanted stairs. There had never been any signs that her defenses had been breached. This made the most likely scenario that Lily herself had brought the book into her room. She was absentminded enough to manage it, and if she had come across the book in the common room one night, she might have not even bothered to double check that it was hers.

In the end, Lily supposed, speculation was insignificant. No matter the circumstance of how the book came to be in her possession, it needed to be returned. Lily swallowed at the unpleasant prospect, but recognized the unavoidability of it.

She sighed and gathered the books that needed to be returned to the library; she might as well get two disagreeable errands over with in one go.

Madam Pince was as warm as ever, and Lily had apologized profusely for her tardiness in returning the books—even though only half of them were overdue. As she turned around to leave, however, she saw James' ex-girlfriend seated at a table with Maggie Bagnold and Darien Tyle near the Charms section.

Lily hesitated. While she was grateful that she didn't have to go looking for the book's owner, she was also disappointed that the task could no longer be procrastinated. This was going to be awkward no matter how she played it, so she resolved to keep the encounter as brief as possible.

Straightening her shoulders a bit, she approached the table.

The three girls looked up from their work. At first they seemed surprised, but then the mood shifted and Lily could feel the animosity. Maggie in particular seemed to take offense that Lily had intruded on their study session.

Lily cleared her throat uneasily. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I was cleaning today and I found this in my room." She placed the book on the table before the girl. "I think I may have picked it up by mistake in the common room one night."

Alida was staring at the book with a very odd expression on her face, almost as though she had been kicked or slapped, and Lily shifted uncomfortably.

"Is there anything else of hers you'd like to return?" Maggie cut in.

"I'm sorry?" Lily asked in confusion.

The girl's dark eyes, with dark smudges beneath them, glared daggers at Lily. "Anything else of hers that you might have _accidentally_ brought up to your room about the same time?"

_James_, Lily realized numbly. _She's talking about James_. Looking from one girl to the next it dawned rather abruptly that they all believed that Lily had stolen James out from under Alida, and that she had been sleeping with him even before his previous relationship had officially ended. Horrified, Lily took a step back from the table. She had known that this would be an unpleasant encounter, but that was because she hadn't liked Alida to begin with and it was never enjoyable meeting a boyfriend's ex. But this was nothing like running into Kinsey Charleston at the zoo three months after Rafe had thrown the girl over. Lily had never had anyone look at her like she was some conniving and unscrupulous tart—the kind of witch that seduced other witch's boyfriends.

Lily opened her mouth to explain, but no words came out. She realized that it would be a wasted gesture. They wouldn't believe anything she said. And she very, very much needed to get out of this library.

She mumbled something about having someplace to be, and retreated. On her way back to the Head dormitories, she passed Mary and Daphne, who had their heads together while they whispered, and Lily was struck with a rather awful thought. Exactly how much of the Hogwarts population believed as the Ravenclaws in the library did? Had Lily been walking around in such a haze of new relationship giddiness that she was missing what was going on around her, what people were saying?

Her hands began to tremble a bit, though she didn't know if that was because she was mortified or angry. Her feelings were just a bit too muddled for her to be able to tell the difference.

She approached the fairy painting. "Bowtruckles," she said flatly.

"It's not that the Prides are out and out shit, it's that they haven't had much going for them since McCormack retired—and that was ten years ago. Putting money on the bleeding Prides at this stage is ludicrous," Sirius was saying with far too much venom for such an asinine topic, in Lily's opinion.

James scoffed. "Yes, but they're up against the Arrows. The Arrows are rubbish—nothing like the Cannons, of course—but rubbish. Besides, they're owned by Arturo Herrlick. He's such a wanker, and reason enough all on his own to bet against the team."

Remus was reading by the fireplace, and Peter was eating some plum pudding he had obviously pilfered from the kitchens. Neither of them seemed to be taking part in the conversation.

Lily rolled her eyes and stomped her way up to her room. For the most part she enjoyed sharing a dormitory with James, but the fact that his friends routinely let themselves in and spent hours and hours in their common room was less than appealing. Especially when they had their big Quidditch debates, like the one that was clearly heating up today.

When she reached her room, she slammed her door behind her with a little too much force and immediately felt guilty about it. It wasn't their fault she was upset. She rather liked Remus a lot, and Peter was growing on her. But that insensitive prat Black was constantly on her nerves. If she didn't like hearing about Quidditch when Melody or James talked about it, she was especially annoyed when Sirius would go on and on. Still, however much she disliked him, he had nothing to do with the sick feeling she had in her stomach.

Heavily, she let herself fall back onto her bed. She rubbed her face as she stared up at the silk canopy. A horrible question suddenly presented itself. Did James know? Had he heard these rumors? That she only wanted him for his money? That she had seduced him away from his former girlfriend?

Daphne was right. People were mean.

Lily sighed, wondering if she should admit how much this whole business bothered her.

* * *

James was knotting the bowtie that went with his dressrobes with some difficulty. He just didn't wear bowties often enough for the skill to have cemented itself in any way, and it always took a few tries before he remembered the exact procedure. Not that he was complaining at having little experience wearing them. He looked like a wanker in the damned things, and didn't even like the regular neckties that he was required to wear every day.

The bowtie became tangled around his fingers, and he swore. Who was he kidding? It wasn't dressing like a bleeding dandy that had him short tempered. It was the brilliant scheme he had helped plan, but wouldn't see. In fact, as the hour drew closer to the start of the masque, James found his mood growing more and more petulant. That was probably at least partly due to the lecture Sirius had given him down in the common room a few hours ago, saying that James was taking his friends for granted and that he was no fun now that he had gone all respectable on them. Peter had thrown a few stones himself, but Remus had remained silent throughout.

_Lily_, he reminded himself. He was going to this pretentious, tedious party with Lily, and that made it worth it. Almost.

Part of him was puzzled at the amount of distaste he was beginning to feel toward this date. After all, when Lily had asked him to come with her weeks ago up on the Astronomy Tower, he had scarcely hesitated. The choice between the two activities had seemed obvious. Of course, just before, Lily had given him the best orgasm of his life, and that might have clouded his judgment a bit.

He was mad about the girl, but a pompous ball was a pompous ball no matter who you went with.

James was startled by a knock at his door, but immediately jumped to answer it. He had been expecting Remus for almost an hour now.

"Did you bring the costumes?" he demanded.

Remus raised his eyebrows at James' tone. "Yes."

James took the packages from his friend's outstretched hand.

"There's…something I should probably tell you about them."

James didn't like the sound of that. "Am I about to find out why you kept 'forgetting' to bring them every day for two weeks?"

Remus smiled nervously. "In my defense, it was Sirius' idea."

"Oh God, what's wrong with them?" James looked down at the packages in his arms with alarm.

"Nothing's defective or embarrassing about them, per se," Remus paused, and James waited rather impatiently for the other shoe to drop. "But they aren't lions."

Part of James went numb with horror. His fingers began tearing at the brown paper of the largest package. It came away to reveal…antlers.

Bloody hell—_antlers!_

He was going to kill Sirius.

James glowered at Remus. "You realize that this is not funny."

Remus considered that for a moment. "No, I think might be."

James collapsed on the trunk at the foot of his bed and reclined against a bedpost. "So…you're a touch more angry than you let on."

He sighed. "I understand that it's Lily, but this is it, James. This is our last one."

James froze.

"It must have crossed your mind, Prongs," he continued. "This is our seventh year. We've used up most of our reprieves, we're all playing it safer these days, and, like Sirius said, you're going respectable on us."

At that accusation, James' head snapped up. Remus couldn't possibly be serious.

He shrugged. "It's true isn't it?"

James' eyes narrowed.

Remus spread his palms defensively. "It's not a bad thing, James. We all have to grow up eventually. Padfoot and Wormtail might not understand that yet, but I do." He paused and his gaze fell to his shoes. "And I don't want you to think that I don't appreciate it—because I do. I know that you're doing it largely because of me, and that means a lot. Especially because it _is_ causing you tension with Sirius."

James folded his arms, waiting for the 'but…' He was not disappointed.

"But this is our last big one—the last mark we'll leave on Hogwarts as the Marauders. And you chose a girl who cares about half a fig for you over your friends."

That wasn't quite the 'but' he had been expecting. James swallowed uncomfortably, averting his gaze. Sure he had been resenting his choice to go to the masque, and resenting his mates for being such gits about the whole thing. But he hadn't really thought about it the way Remus had explained it, and he found himself feeling guilty, as well. Remus was right, damn it. What the hell was he thinking letting Lily, who had treated him like dung up until a few weeks ago, drag him to this ridiculous thing when his friends, who had been loyal to him for years, had been counting on him.

Remus motioned to the costume. "If it had been something really embarrassing or tasteless, I would have stopped him, but it's not as though you mind being a stag."

James cocked a brow at him.

There was a prolonged and tense silence before Remus turned to go. He paused with his hand on the doorknob.

"You didn't…tell Lily about being an Animagus by chance, did you?" he asked. The accusation in his voice was faint but unmistakable.

"What?" James managed after a moment of stunned silence. "Of course not."

"Because her friend Melody seemed to think dressing the two of you up as a stag and a doe was every bit as amusing as Sirius and Peter did."

His brows knit at that piece of information, but his tone was firm in his reply. "I give my word that I have not so much as hinted at our animal transformations."

Remus nodded. "That's good. I know how you feel about her, and I'm happy for you. All I ask is that you keep it in perspective." He gave James an encouraging smile and pulled the door open.

James sat slightly numb after his exit. His eyes fell to the antlers in his grasp. He had to fight the urge to fling them at the wall. "_Keep it in perspective_…." How patronizing.

He did his best to swallow his seething anger, but couldn't escape the feeling that he had just been lectured by his father. Remus had talked down to him, yet it was undeniable that he was right and that James had deserved it. Which only served to make it more difficult to accept. Fucking hell, James was a prat.

He knocked the back of his head against the bedpost a few times in frustration. This would all be easier if he didn't fancy Lily so much, if he didn't care what she thought of him, or want her for the long haul.

There was a light rapping on his door that he had come associate with his girlfriend.

"Come in," he snapped before he could rein in his aggravation.

Lily poked her head in and he sat forward, pulled toward her by some invisible force.

"Do you have the costumes yet?" she asked. She opened the door all the way and stepped through. Her green robes were low-cut, and the bodice was tight. A white sash was draped around her waist, secured at her groin with a gold broach. A thick, gold choker adorned her neck, and it may have been his imagination, but he could swear there were gold sparkles in her hair, which tumbled freely down her back in loose, jumbled curls. Like she had just rolled out of bed.

His erection was instantaneous. Suddenly, he could think of something he would rather do than the ball _and_ the Peeves prank.

Her face became pink as he stared. "Do you like my robes?" she asked, her voice a little unsteady.

"My bed is right here," he spoke without thinking.

Lily laughed, her flush spreading to her chest in the most fascinating way. "Yes," she said softly. "It is."

He pulled his eyes up to her face sharply from where they had been ogling her feminine attributes.

She looked away shyly, but her words were bold and traveled down his body like a caress. "Rest assured, I have given your bed ample thought."

Merlin, how did things degenerate so quickly? All she had to do was walk into a room and his twisted brain would come up with a thousand scenarios in which he got her out of her clothes. The worst part was that she was always game, always open to the suggestion, even now when she was blushing like a nervous virgin. Her willingness hit him like a Bludger to the stomach every time, reminding him that his stubborn desire to win her was the only reason he didn't yet know what it felt like to be inside her.

"But then," she teased, "we would miss the masque."

He sighed piteously. "We can't go anyway."

"Why not?"

He gestured to the strip of black silk slung round his neck. "I can't remember how to knot a bowtie."

Lily laughed. It was the best sound in the world. "Well, I can."

She approached and sat beside him on the trunk. Wordlessly she reached out and gathered the ends of the tie. A look of intense concentration came over her face, as though it had been a long time since she had done this as well.

He watched her bite her lip and felt her hands brushing his neck and chest. She smelled like jasmine rather than her usual spiced apples. The scent floated up from her curled hair and his fingers itched to touch. He had been right; there were bits of gold in her hair—not many, just here and there. They gave her an otherworldly quality. She looked like an angel.

Which he knew very well was not the case. He found himself smiling daftly at the thought, so very glad that she was not an angel.

Perhaps afterward, he might actually bring her up to his bed….

That notion and that notion alone was enough to convince himself that going to this party with her was worth missing the Peeves prank.

She smiled up at him. "How's that?"

James stood so that he could see his reflection in the mirror. "A mite crooked, but that's all right. It just makes me look more dashing."

"Yes, but you'd think you looked dashing in anything," she said it in a voice meant to convey exasperation, but the light in her eyes said something entirely different.

He ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, about that…. There has been a slight change of plans with the costumes."

Her eyes narrowed. "We've been over this—I will not go to the masque dressed as a monkey. We compromised on the lions."

James grinned at her apologetically. "Our friends had other plans."

"Our friends?"

"Well," he sat down beside her again, "I asked Remus to pick them up, and it seems he, Sirius, Peter, and Mel got a little creative."

"Creative?"

He picked up the package at his feet, tore the rest of the paper off, and handed Lily the rack of antlers. She held them mutely for a moment, her face draining of all color.

_That's an interesting reaction_, James thought to himself, remembering what Remus had said about Melody thinking the swap was hilarious. He studied Lily shrewdly, instantly becoming guarded. Remus was right; the Marauders' secrets were sacred and he had played too loose and free with them. A bit of skirt, even a bit of skirt named Lily Evans, was not worth breaking the trust he and his mates had built.

"I'm not quite sure I understand the joke," he played dumb, but he didn't so much as blink as he waited for her response, so intent was he on her reaction.

Color swept back into her complexion en masse. She looked up at him, but quickly averted her gaze. "All right, I'll confess."

He braced himself.

"Just…" she paused, chewing her lip, "please, try not to laugh."

He leaned back against the bedpost again and nodded.

"One night, I came down to get some books from the common room, and you…were up here with that Ravenclaw girl."

"Alida?"

Lily nodded. "You hadn't Imperturbed your door, so I could hear you. It sounded fairly…intense, so I got out of hearing range as quickly as I could manage. But she kept calling you her 'stag'."

James was sitting stiffly. Bloody fucking hell, he was going to have to murder Sirius for that one all over again. "Why would I laugh at that?"

She gave a shy smile, "No, I meant later." When it became obvious that that he did not understand, she elaborated, "When I finish the story. There's still more."

"Oh."

"But, would it be all right if I asked you a question before I finish?"

He groaned, knowing what was coming. "Why not?"

"Why was she calling you a stag?"

Now he was the one having trouble making eye contact. "Have you ever heard of a Muggle named Ivan Pavlov?"

She actually laughed. "Of course."

James didn't know whether or not to take offense at that. "Well, I hadn't. Not until this past summer anyway. Sirius was really interested in some of his research and decided to try modifying it into a spell. Imbecile that I am, I helped him by using some of those proofs I've been working on for McGonagall. Anyway, long story short, he used me for his guinea pig and convinced Lida to help him. She told me afterward that he had told her that I knew he had cast the spell on me and that my participation was consensual." He ran his fingers through his hair agitatedly. "My stimulus was the word 'stag' and my response was to rub her clit. Thank God it wore off after a few hours."

Lily's eyes were dancing. "From what I heard, she enjoyed the experiment very much."

James was unable to stop his grin. "That she did." His smile faded. "Of course we broke up the very next day."

There was an awkward silence before Lily spoke. "Why?"

"Why did we break up?"

She nodded.

His jaw hardened a bit. "Why did you and your boyfriend break up?"

Her eyes widened in alarm. "What boyfriend?" Her voice was so soft he almost didn't hear it.

"The one who chucked you just before you came after me."

"I…" she swallowed, "I would rather not talk about him."

James nodded, standing and walking over to his dresser to retrieve his watch. He tried not to think about the tosser in her past who could create this haunted look in her eyes and what he would like to do to him. Obviously, the bloke was an idiot—at the very least.

"Do you miss her?" He heard Lily ask quietly as he fastened the timepiece to his wrist.

He met eyes with her in the mirror. "Lida?"

She nodded.

"Sometimes," he answered honestly.

Lily nodded again, this time rather absently. "I suppose that's how it works."

God, whoever this prick was, he'd done quite the number on her.

"So," he prompted. "What happened next?"

Startled, her gaze darted back to his.

"In your story that you haven't finished—the part I'm not supposed to laugh at."

"Oh, right." She sat up a little straighter. "I told Melody about it. Then she drugged me with that Brynhild's Elixir, and I had that dream."

"The sex dream?" he prodded with an exaggerated leer meant to break the tension.

It worked and she smiled. "Yes, the sex dream. Well, it seems that my subconscious had become fixated with the stag thing and in the dream, you had antlers."

He paused as he reached for his cologne. "Just to be clear, in your dream I kept scores of bunnies and wore antlers, and you still slept with me?"

Lily was giggling now. "You didn't give me much choice. You said that I was your prize, that I belonged to you. Then you commanded me to strip so that you could 'take me'."

The cap to his bottle of cologne slipped out of his grasp and clattered to the floor.

She grinned, pleased with his reaction. "Plus, you told me that you were the King of the Forest, and then you ordered your rabbits to worship me, and you know how that kind of thing impresses a girl."

His eyes narrowed, even as his erection had sprung back to life at the picture she was painting. "You're winding me up."

"No I'm not." She spread her palms. "It was an _odd_ dream." Her eyes fell to the antlers in her lap, and her expression became one of mischievous delight. "Perhaps we could act it out later, now that we have these as a prop."

Lily rose from the trunk and walked over to him. She lifted the rack onto his head and then cast the Charm to make it stay in place. Her eyes drifted over him lingeringly, a somewhat bemused smile tugging at her lips.

"Your dream come to life?"

She shrugged and said cheekily, "They were bigger in the dream."

His gaze fell to her lips, and he heard her breath catch. But he turned away. He was too aroused and she looked too tempting. If he so much as kissed her, they would not make it to the masque.

James strode over to the second package Remus had brought, and ripped back the brown paper to reveal their masks. They were delicate ovals of brown fur with holes cut out for their eyes. His was specially modified to accommodate his glasses. There was also a headband for her with doe ears that would rise up out of her hair.

He felt more than heard her approach to his side, and he passed her the mask and the ears without looking at her. It was a moment before she left his side to put them on in front of the mirror, and he could feel her eyes on him. They really needed to get out of this room and away from his bed.

James donned his mask and turned to look at her. He had to stop himself from sighing in relief. She looked adorable—especially with the ears. But most of her face was covered, and he couldn't deny that such made it infinitely easier to resist her.

He held his arm out to her. "Shall we?"

She smiled and entwined her arm with his.

As he opened his door for the two of them to make their way down to the party, she asked, "So…you can't cast an Imperturbable, can you?"

"Not really, no."

* * *

James was bored; Lily could tell. He put on a pleasant face and was a perfect gentleman to Slughorn and the adult guests Slug had wished to introduce her to, but he was bored. She supposed she shouldn't be overly surprised; this wasn't his sort of party by any means, and he was probably thinking fondly of the Halloween Feast he was missing upstairs in the Great Hall.

The masque was in one of the larger dungeons of Hogwarts. Instead of the standard fair of cobwebs and carved pumpkins, the decorations followed more of an autumn theme. Colored leaves hung from the ceiling, charmed to sway as though there was a breeze. Over the dance floor, the leaves were floating to the ground in increments. A string quartet sat on a raised, wooden platform to the side of the dance floor, and an announcer called out each selection before they began to play. Golden yellow and white silk cloths titivated the tables, and the only light in the room came from the many candles. It was Slug's most lavish party of the year, and the one most of his alumni attended. There were only about twelve current members of the Club in attendance with their dates. All in all, there were probably less than fifty people in the room, and it was a very Slytherin-heavy selection.

She had made sure to claim a table shared with Hestia Jones, her date Brian Cuffe, and Orsino Thruston and his date, Heather Tillney. It was a meeting of three Houses, but she wagered James would be more comfortable there than at a table with Slytherins. Of course, Lily realized her mistake immediately when it became clear that Heather was one of James' former dalliances.

When James went with Orsino and Brian to get punch, she leaned over to Lily and whispered in an acerbically cool tone, "You may think you have a hold on him now because you were able to seduce him away from poor Lida, but I wouldn't get too comfortable. That boy moves fast. He was finished with me in less than a month."

Lily managed an artificial smile. "Well, I've already managed to break your record. We'll see how it goes."

Heather wrinkled her nose and sat back in her chair haughtily. Wonderful. At this rate she wouldn't be on speaking terms with any of the Ravenclaws in her year. Part of her felt bad for snapping at the girl so nastily, but, damn it, she was sick of people commenting on her relationship. It was none of their business if she and James were together for a minute or a year.

She wondered silently if this black-haired ninny with a pinched face was one of James' seven. And for fuck's sake why wasn't Lily number eight yet?

James returned with the punch and dropped a kiss to Lily's temple as he placed the glass before her. She was slightly mollified by the contact and by the surprised expression on Heather's face. Hestia had grinned behind her own punch glass at the exchange.

"Potter?" she turned to him abruptly.

He halted in bringing his glass up for a drink, his face displaying mild alarm. "Yes?"

"Do you dance?"

He winced, but nodded. Downing the punch like a shot, he rose to his feet. When he held his hand out to her, she bit her lip to keep from smiling. He was such a reluctant gentleman.

She took his hand and he led her to the dance floor. His stance was perfect and when he placed his hands in the precise position for a traditional waltz, she was unable to hold back a giggle.

"What?" he demanded.

"Somebody's mother made him take dancing lessons."

He rolled his eyes, but she almost couldn't tell because his mask was obscuring his face. "Worst five hours of my life."

"Yet you survived."

They glided over the dance floor smoothly. When there was a near misstep, it was hers, and he compensated appropriately to keep from losing the rhythm. Yet he did it all with a rather disinterested and mechanical air. He clearly hated dancing too much to ever be a proficient, but he was naturally too graceful and athletic to make a mess of it. Lily was envious. It had taken her far longer than five hours to learn how to dance.

"Tell your mother thank you. I haven't been twirled like this in a long time."

"And do you enjoy being twirled, Evans?" he asked as the colored leaves meandered through the air around him.

"What girl doesn't?" she simpered playfully. Then, her brows knit beneath her mask. "Why did you call me Evans?"

He shrugged. "Why do you call me Potter?"

"I do not—" she was cut off abruptly when someone bumped into her from behind. Whipping her head around, she froze when her eyes met with a young man dressed in functional black dressrobes and a crow mask.

They gaped at each other a moment before he bowed stingily. "Pardon me."

As he walked away, she heard James ask, "Was that Snivellus?"

"Yes," she said as she disengaged, stepping back from him. "And don't call him Snivellus," she added automatically.

James stared at her for a prolonged moment, a muscle in his jaw ticking slightly. She wondered if she should take her admonition back—after all, did she really care if he called that arse of a Death Eater an immature nickname?

"Of course, you're right _Evans_," his voice had a little more bite to it than she was used to, and she knew that he was actually angry. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to pop to the loo for a moment."

He led her back to the now empty table, but let go of her hand without preamble. He removed his mask and antlers quickly and placed them near his empty punch glass, while she groped for something to say. But she hesitated too long, at a complete loss, and he left.

She sat stiffly, her cheeks glowing. What had just happened? He had been fuming. That didn't happen, not ever. Or at least, never before. They bantered, they flirted, and they fought, but he was always teasing, always annoyingly resilient. Nothing she ever said seemed to make its way under his skin. Why now, why this moment? She must have told him not to call Severus 'Snivellus' a thousand times, but he had never reacted like this.

"Date over already?"

Lily looked up to see that Hestia had joined her. "He went to use the loo."

"Don't be embarrassed," she said, flopping her owl mask onto the table. "My date ditched me as well." She gestured with her head over to where Brian was engaged in a heated discussion with the head of Magical Law Enforcement. Hestia seemed more amused by the turn of events than anything.

"Hestia," Lily suddenly sat forward. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

She chewed her lip for a moment before blurting, "Have you heard any rumors about me lately?"

Hestia seemed mildly surprised by the question. "You mean like that you're a gold-digging slag, out to land a moneyed pure-blood even if it means shagging a bloke you can't stand? Or that you get off on stealing other girl's boyfriends?" Lily nodded, but Hestia kept going. "My personal favorite is the one where you've been steadily slipping James love potions for the past four years and you're planning on eloping with him after the term ends."

Lily couldn't imagine what her face must have looked like, but it was enough to make Hestia's grin deflate completely. "Almost no one believes them, Lily," she reassured. "I sure as hell don't. I mean, anyone who's met you would know that you couldn't seduce a carrot, let alone a bloke."

"Seduce a carrot? Why would anyone seduce a…." _Oh_.

Hestia patted her hand. "Chin up, Lil. We can't all be sirens."

Under normal circumstances, Lily would have felt the need to defend her flirtation skills. But when she thought of James and the bed she had yet to sleep in, she was inclined to agree. Clearly she was doing _something_ wrong.

* * *

James splashed his face with water, leaning against the sink. He had to get a grip. What was he thinking, snapping at Lily like that? But then, what the hell was wrong with her, defending that prick even after their friendship had fallen apart years ago? That grimy, slimy, greasy bastard had some sort of unnatural hold over her.

Merlin, this battle was up hill. And he was a goddamned moron. The epiphany that had slapped him in the face on that dance floor was that he wanted more from Lily than she was probably capable of giving him. He didn't just want her to like him, want him, or care about him. He wanted her to like him _best_, wanted her to _love_ him. Which was absurd and selfish. After all, it wasn't as though he loved her. He didn't think. Shit, wouldn't that be a fucking tragedy? If he fell in love and she…didn't.

Fabulous. Now he was depressed. He should just fuck her and be done with it. Waiting was just driving him crazy and making her frustrated. Besides, he would probably be able to walk away then.

He knew it made him the worst sort of cad, but he had a tendency to lose interest in a girl after a few shags. It was a propensity that Sirius called 'natural,' Remus called 'despicable,' and Peter called 'brilliant.' James was inclined to agree with Remus, but maybe this was exactly what he needed in this case. Get Lily out of his system and move on to the next available bird. At least that way he wouldn't end up with his heart _Crucio_-ed and spat on.

He wiped his face dry and slid his glasses back on. He stared at his reflection bitterly. Where the fuck were his priorities? Here he was nursing an impossible dream of a real relationship with Lily, when there was an irreplaceable memory in the making with his mates on the second floor.

His mind made up, he left the loo and, instead of taking the turn that led back to the party, headed up the stairs instead. He tiptoed past the Great Hall as quietly as he could, though he doubted anyone would have heard him regardless, what with the amount of noise coming from the feast.

The first floor was deserted and when he approached the flight that led up to the second, he pulled out his wand.

"_Flagrate_," he cast, his voice low. In the air he wrote 'Prongs,' and then waited.

He didn't have to wait for long to hear Peter's footsteps approach, quickly, as if he were excited.

"Prongs, you came!"

James took a step back and held his arms up defensively just in case Peter was planning to hug him. He made a shushing noise—really, Wormtail was supposed to be the _undetectable_ guard.

Peter's head appeared in the air as he pulled back the hood of James' Invisibility Cloak. "Sirius has been cursing you for hours. We didn't think you'd come," he whispered.

"Did I miss it?"

Peter shook his head. "I don't think so. It took Sirius a bit to lure Peeves to the exact spot. We've only been in position for a few minutes. From what I can hear, Remus is having a lot of fun."

James smiled. He liked the sound of that.

"Give me the cloak," James held his hand out to his friend.

"But…"

"Cast a Disillusionment Charm on yourself," he instructed, cutting Peter off impatiently. "You only have to worry about not being seen by people, I have to sneak by Peeves and my Disillusionment Charms have never been the best."

Peter hesitated for a moment, but then pulled at the unseen ties at the neck of the Invisibility Cloak. Swinging it off his shoulders, he passed it to James.

"Padfoot is in position?" James asked.

Peter nodded.

"I'm going to join him—unless Moony needs help."

"All right."

"You've got the map?" James pulled the cloak over his face.

"Of course," Peter replied, pulling the Marauder's Map from his pocket.

James ruffled Peter's hair. "See you in a bit, Wormy."

He climbed the stairs slowly; it was of utmost importance that he made as little noise as possible. The plan was simple. Over the summer holiday, Moony had stumbled upon some Polyjuice Potion derivatives in his research of various magical transformations. One temporarily altered the appearance of spirits and non-corporeals, including wraiths, banshees, ghosts…and poltergeists. Since the concoction couldn't be ingested, the key ingredient was eel's bane, which made the fumes especially potent.

Next, they needed to find a way to keep Peeves still enough to be affected by the fumes. James and Sirius had scoured the Restricted Section for almost a month to find just the right spell that would temporarily bind Peeves. Hypatia's Circle would only hold for twenty minutes, but that should be more than enough time.

The overall objective was to use the Polyjuice derivative to make Peeves look like Filch, for an entire hour.

It seemed that James had already missed the first stage of the plan, in which Sirius, as Padfoot, would lure Peeves into the Hypatia's Circle already set in place by Remus and Peter down the second floor corridor. Then Remus would take position around a corner and his primary job would be to distract the poltergeist long enough for Sirius to lean out of the girl's loo where he was hidden and toss the potion phial so that it shattered inside the Circle, without being seen. Peter's job was to stand watch with the Map and send up a warning if anyone approached.

Really, this was troll's play compared to many of the schemes they had orchestrated in the past, and it seemed to be going well thus far. Or so it seemed until James reached the top of the stairs and Peeves came into view.

The poltergeist was ricocheting against the walls of his transparent prison, cursing and singing. Scattered on the ground near the Circle were the remains of what looked like three potion phials and the slop they had contained.

That wasn't good. Planning for every contingency, they had made five doses of the vital potion, just in case the person throwing the phials missed four times. At the time, James had been insulted by the precaution, and had thought two was more than enough. But that was when James was to be the one throwing the potions. When he had opted to go to the masque instead, Sirius had taken the role.

James had always known he had the better arm, but bloody hell, there was no excuse for this shit. He was going to have to increase his mate's training regimen if they were planning on winning any matches this year.

He made his way to the girl's loo, and softly telegraphed the secret knock before pushing the door open.

"Damn it, Wormtail, for the last time, get the fuck back to your post," Sirius was growling even before James had closed the door behind him.

"I hate it when he does that, too," James said as he slid the Invisibility Cloak off his shoulders.

"Prongs!"

James was on the receiving end of a hug. And then a right hook. It wasn't a full-blown punch, in fact, for Sirius it was downright playful. When he straightened up, James fought the urge to rub his jaw. Showing weakness in front of his best friend only served to encourage him.

"Thought I'd come up and see myself a poltergeist that looks like our esteemed nemesis, and damned if I don't find our carefully laid plans going all to cock. Can you manage nothing without me?" James fixed Sirius with the sternest expression he could manage.

"It would seem not," Sirius grinned, too exuberant that James had turned up to defend himself.

"Where are the other two phials?"

"I'll get them."

As Sirius moved to retrieve the potions, James saw the ghost of a young girl perched atop one of the sinks.

"Hello, Myrtle."

"Hello," she answered, seeming almost cheerful—for Myrtle. But then, Sirius had that effect on most females. "You're dressed up smart tonight, James."

He glanced down at his dressrobes. "Had a date," he explained.

"With that Evans girl he's always going on about," Sirius further elaborated.

"Oh," she said, recognition in her eyes. "How was it?"

"Can't have been going too well," Sirius interjected. "Not if he's here instead of snogging her in a dark corner somewhere."

James' jaw clenched a bit. Sirius was right, damn it all, but he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing. "It was going swimmingly, but I thought I'd pop by and see how my wayward mates were managing our caper."

Myrtle straitened a bit on her perch. "_I_ never dated. Boys said that I was awkward and ugly."

"Wankers, the lot of them." Sirius stopped her before she could get herself worked up, his voice having taken on that quality it always did when he was charming a girl. "Besides, adolescent boys always pick on the girls they secretly like."

"You're making fun of me," Myrtle's lips moved into that particular pout that James knew meant trouble and overflowing toilets.

"Bollocks," Sirius scoffed, tossing James the two phials, which he caught easily. "I'm an adolescent boy, so I would know, yeah?" He looked to James for support.

Slipping one phial into his pocket and rolling the other over the back of his fingers in a parlor trick he had perfected years ago, James nodded. "It's true. I was dead rotten to Lily for years—pulled her hair, called her names, stole her quills. It was only because I wanted her to pay attention to me."

"See," Sirius gestured, as though that clinched it. "James is the expert on behaving like an arse." He then braced his arms on either side of the sink behind him, and lifted himself up onto it so that he was seated beside Myrtle.

James watched color of sort rise in Myrtle's face, and it took him a moment to realize that that she was blushing. "I'm just going to…throw this now," he said pulling on his Invisibility Cloak and turning toward the door. Sirius was a charmer—that was what he did. But there was something _really weird_ about watching him do it to Myrtle.

Unlike Sirius, James didn't have to wait for Remus to signal a distraction. James had the Invisibility Cloak to keep Peeves from seeing his face. Of course, Peeves would naturally assume they were behind this—it had their style smeared all over it. But one thing the boys had learned about their school's resident poltergeist was that, if he _saw_ you commit mischief, his memory was much, much longer than if he _suspected_ you committed mischief. And Peeves' full and direct wrath was something to be avoided at all costs.

James pushed open the door and peeked out. Peeves was spitting in his rage, but James shut that out. He didn't see the poltergeist, he didn't hear it. All that existed in the whole world was the glowing red circle marking the perimeter of Peeves' temporary prison, and the glass phial in his hand. The circle was smaller than a Quidditch hoop, but then the potion was certainly smaller than a Quaffle.

He took a deep breath, and then threw the potion. The phial shattered right in the center of the circle, and James let loose the breath he had been holding, a smile curving his lips.

* * *

Lily was sitting alone at her table. Orsino and Heather were still dancing and Hestia had dragged Brian away from the Head of Magical Law Enforcement off to some secluded corner somewhere. No one had approached her in the past half hour. It was as though weighty gloom permeated from her, warding people off.

Ten minutes was reasonable, she supposed. Especially if he had been angry and needed to cool down. Twenty minutes was pushing it, perhaps, but would have been fine. But forty-five…. James had been gone for forty-five minutes.

Had she been ditched…chucked?

The people around her seemed to think so, she gathered from their too-loud whispers. It was humiliating, not the least for which that many of them were saying that she received no less than what she deserved.

Perhaps they were right.

Over the past two weeks, and quite particularly today, she had become more and more aware of the rumors that followed her and more and more bothered by them. As she traced patterns on her napkin with her finger, Lily glumly admitted to herself why that was so. They bothered her because there was truth to them. No, she was not after James' money, but she may as well have been. Her reasons for initiating the relationship were every bit as superficial. No, she had not set out to steal another witch's man, but she had behaved like a tart. She had seduced him, used her body to reel him in, and daily she practically begged him to take that part of her completely. Meanwhile she withheld any emotional bond. So no, these people did not have the story straight, but the picture of her they were painting wasn't off base either.

But it wasn't working so well, obviously. The not getting emotionally attached part. If it were, she would not be brimming with tears in public when faced with evidence that James had decided she wasn't worth the effort.

She was an arrogant little chit, that's what she was. It was a difficult thing to admit, but one of the reasons she had selected James in the first place had been that she was sure he would be at her feet with a crook of her finger. He had wanted her for ages, _begged_ her to date him. She had been searching for someone who would treat her like a goddess, put her ahead of everything and everyone else. Someone who would regard it a privilege to date her.

She had wanted the opposite of Severus, who had put so much ahead of her. Who treated her as though her opinions were silly and uninformed. Who understood her and what she needed so little that he thought becoming a Death Eater was the best way to protect her.

But James was nothing like she had predicted, and he certainly didn't treat her like she was anything more or less special than a young schoolgirl with a battered ego and a wounded heart. She had thought she would have all the power, and yet here she sat, alone and mortified in front of her peers and mentors.

She let the tears that had been pooling in her eyes fall. After all, no one would be able to see them with her mask in the way.

Lily had taken James for granted before they had even started dating. Perhaps she had always taken him for granted; there had never been any hurry to get over her pride and agree to go out with him, because he would always ask her again next week. He would always be waiting for her, and when she was ready, he would take her.

Well, James had certainly repaid her for that overconfidence tonight.

The voices around her suddenly became louder and more excited. As soon as Lily registered that, she knew that a new topic had taken over.

"…like _Filch_?"

"Yes, it's brilliant. Filch has Pettigrew and Black, but he can't find anything on them to prove that they had anything to do with it. You've got to come see this."

Ah. So his friends had staged an exhibition of jackassery and he had gone to join. For that she had endured a triumphant smirk from Heather Tillney, a pitying glance from Slughorn, and knowing sneer from Severus.

She was startled when she felt a pair of lips press into her temple near the edge of her mask. James had appeared at her side.

"Sorry about that, love," he said, his eyes full of sincerity. "Some poor sod was sick, and I had to take him up to the Hospital Wing. Pomfrey thinks he may have had an allergic reaction to the dates in the biscuits. She sent me to owl his wife."

Lily just stared at him. This wasn't real—_he_ wasn't real.

"Would you like to finish that dance?" he asked with an apologetic smile.

He was gazing at her the way he might if he'd had a legitimate reason to be detained. He was lying, and there was nothing about his demeanor that gave him away. His hands weren't fidgeting, his eyes weren't darting this way and that to avoid her gaze, and there was no rising color on his neck or face. There was nothing…nothing telling her that he was lying except the fact that she had just heard that two of his friends had just been taken to Filch's offices following a massive prank.

She had forgotten—it was easy to forget. When he teased, it was a simple matter to tell what was truth and what was utter bollocks. But this boy knew how to lie. He did it well; he did it often. And he was doing it to her right now.

James seemed to sense that something was wrong, because he began to study her face more closely. "Lily," his voice became alarmed. "Have you been crying?"

She couldn't do this. Not right now, when she was ready to start bawling. She wouldn't show him any more weakness than she already had.

Lily rose from the table, and left James behind.


	10. Practical Advice

**10**

**Practical Advice**

Lily had been awake for hours. She hadn't been up so early since her date with James to Hogsmeade—especially on a Monday. On Monday mornings she had a free period first thing, and she tended to use it to get in a few more hours of sleep, breakfast be damned. But she hadn't slept well and had long since given up trying altogether.

She had been lying nestled in her covers for hours, turning her situation over in her head. A bit of parchment bearing James' tight, spiky scrawl was clutched in her hand, and his cat was curled up on her pillow beside her head.

After leaving the masque, she had come directly here. Tossing her mask and doe ears into the bin between racking sobs, she had peeled off her dressrobes and kicked off her shoes before climbing into a scalding shower. She had scrubbed her skin raw and lathered her hair with a cleansing potion three times to make sure she got rid of those ridiculous sparkles she had painstakingly painted into her curls. Afterward, she had pulled on her oldest, rattiest, most comfy pajamas and climbed into bed.

She fingered the collar of the oversized flannel top she was wearing. She didn't wear these pajamas often. Lily was not the sort of girl who put comfort over vanity. She had worn four-inch heel boots and a miniskirt on her adventure date with James. The robes she had worn to the masque laced so tight she could scarcely breathe, and the shoes had pinched her toes. All of her undergarments were matching sets, and her usual sleep wardrobe consisted of pretty camisoles and knickers or feminine nightdresses. She only owned the one pair of worn flannels, and they were reserved for rotten nights when she was hideously upset. After all, they were hideously ugly.

She felt so very foolish…and wretched. She knew that it was largely her own fault, but as her late grandfather would say, "Hitting your own thumb with the hammer doesn't make it hurt any less than if someone else does it for you."

Her hand reached out to pet the orange kitten absently. She needed to talk to someone—someone removed from the situation, unbiased. Unfortunately, no such person was easily accessible, so she would have to settle for the next best thing.

Lily had been listening intently for almost an hour, waiting to hear noises that would indicate that James was awake and on his way out of the dormitory. It was difficult to predict when he would get up. Some days he was up with the sun, and others he slept till noon. As it was Monday and he began his lessons with double Transfiguration, his favorite subject, Lily had hoped that he would be out of bed sooner rather than later, but nothing broke the oppressive silence.

Perhaps she should just dress and slip out.

She sat up and lifted the covers off her legs as quietly as she could manage. Pumpkin stretched and mewed plaintively. Lily put her finger to her lips automatically at the noise, and immediately felt silly. She managed to locate a clean uniform and her shoes in the dark with relatively no sound, and she was thankful that she had tidied her bedroom the day before because things were easy to find. She cast her beauty charms silently, and pulled her hair back into a low ponytail. She slipped James' folded note and her wand into her pocket before tiptoeing to her door.

When she peered out, Lily had to suppress a groan. James had fallen asleep in the common room on the sofa by the fire, still in his dressrobes. She bit her lower lip, caught in a moment of indecision.

But she didn't have time to hesitate as it turned out. That damned kitten, tired of being cooped up all night and ecstatic at the sight of her master, slipped between Lily's legs and headed straight for James.

Lily spent one more moment frozen before she bolted for the entrance. It wasn't quite the stealthy exit she had hoped for, but luckily for her, James slept like the dead, and he scarcely stirred when Pumpkin hopped on his chest. She stumbled a bit as she climbed through the portrait hole, but she did not stop or slow down.

She sprinted all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, only to arrive at the portrait of the Fat Lady and realize that she did not know the new password. It would have been changed just the day before. As Head Girl, she had a list in her room of the previous, current, and future passwords for all the House dormitories, but she hadn't thought to check before sneaking out.

Just as she was cursing her absentmindedness, the portrait swung open. The sigh of relief died in her lungs, however, when Sirius Black stepped through.

"Ah, the fair viper, Miss Evans," he said in that lazy, aristocratic drawl he used when he was aiming to be obnoxious.

"Mr. Black," she returned with equal warmth. "I see you have yet to be expelled."

"Evidence, you silly chit. They need evidence for expulsion."

Her mouth twisted as her brain stumbled upon a notion. "And there was no evidence to find as my boyfriend stashed it while you and Peter were being searched."

Discomfort flashed over Black's pretty features. "Did James tell you that?"

She shook her head, shrugging. "Lucky guess."

"Think you're clever, do you?"

"Not nearly as clever as you lot think you are." Her eyes fell to where his fingers were straightening his cuffs. He did it casually, but she couldn't help but wonder if it was a nervous habit as she had seen him do it under Dumbledore's scrutiny more than once. "From what I heard on my way up to the dormitory last night, I would say a binding spell like a Frozen Arrow—maybe a Timeless Box Charm or Hypatia's Circle. To make Peeves look like Filch, you could have used glamour charm work well past N.E.W.T. level, but as I've seen your subpar glamours, I would guess Wysocki's Polyjuice Derivative. Throw in a few Disillusionment Charms, and you have a caper any group of oafish gits could carry off."

Black's brows shot up, "Subpar? _My_ glamour charms? My Charm work is some of the best in the year."

"Only if you're using James as the standard."

A well worn and rakishly charming half-smile tugged at Black's lips. "You've a point there. Between you me, I wouldn't let the poor bugger cast the Contraceptive Charms if I were you."

Lily nodded, fighting a smile of her own. "Good advice well noted, but I prefer the potion."

"Of course you do—much more reliable, that."

Another voice cut into their conversation. "Not you as well."

Her eyes were drawn from Black to see that Peter and Remus were climbing through the portrait hole. Remus wore an expression of exasperation. "If this doesn't let up, James is going to develop a complex."

Sirius spread his palms. "It's not my fault he's rubbish at Charms."

Peter rushed to defend James. "He's not rubbish; he got an 'E' on his O.W.L."

"Yes, but so did you, Wormtail," Sirius said with a smirk that was almost nasty. "What does that tell us?"

There was an extended silence while Lily, Remus, and Peter glared at him, before Sirius barked a short, harsh laugh.

"I wish Prongs were here. He would have picked that right up with an 'I think it tells us Charms is for pansies,' or 'Of course you're right, Padfoot. And who was it got a "P" in Herbology?'" Sirius shook his head. "Frankly, I'm disgusted. You two have no sense of banter."

Lily noted she had been forgotten.

"Yes well, I'm terribly sorry that I cannot be Prongs for you. Regrettably, I am myself." Remus bit out with a bitterness that shocked Lily. These boys were inseparable friends by all accounts, but Remus was glaring at Black as though he hated him.

"Great pity that is, too, Moony. I would say that you fall short because you have no _bite_ to back up your bark, but then, you would need bark in the first place."

"Oh, I think we can all agree that you have enough bark for the both of us, Padfoot."

"Wait," Peter piped up. "Who got a 'P' in Herbology?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I did."

Lily was interested. That was surprising because she had never been interested in the dynamics of James and his friends—in fact, she strove to ignore them whenever possible. She didn't sit with them during classes or meals, and she couldn't care less what they got up to those nights they disappeared. But that was changing. She was intrigued despite herself.

_It's because my relationship with James is changing_, she realized. _It's because I'm fascinated by him_.

And that reminded her that she had a purpose in her journey up to Gryffindor Tower before classes on a Monday when she should have been wrapped up in her blankets, blissfully having a lie-in. However interested she might be, she only had a small window to speak with her friend before classes began for the day.

"Pardon me," she spoke to Peter and Remus, who were still standing in front of the open entrance. "I need to talk to Pilar before she comes down for breakfast."

Peter scrambled to get out of the way, pulling Remus with him, but Sirius grabbed her arm. She looked at him in alarm.

With an insufferable grin, he bent and kissed the back of her hand in a dramatic fashion. "Godspeed," he said. He then turned on his heel and began his journey down to breakfast.

She glared at his retreating figure. "Knobhead," she muttered malignantly.

Remus still stood stiff with fury, but Peter looked at her apologetically, murmuring, "Good morning, Lily."

She returned the pleasantry and climbed through the portrait hole.

Her old dormitory was teaming when she arrived. Daphne was plaiting her hair, and Mary was applying her makeup, while Melody cursed the fact that she seemed to have misplaced every one of her ties. Pilar, however, was already dressed and primped, just gathering her books for the day.

Lily made her visit as quick as possible and asked to speak to Pilar alone. She did her best to ignore the hurt look on Melody's face as they made their exit, vowing to make it up to her other closest friend.

Not really knowing how to begin, Lily just walked. Pilar followed. Lily led them past the Great Hall and out onto the grounds. They reached the lake, and Pilar made some comment about what a beautiful morning it was, indicating her impatience.

Lily opened her mouth but the words did not come immediately. It was all so much and she did not know how to describe it, what details were relevant, or even what she wanted from her friend. So, rather than ramble on and on in hopes that she stumbled upon the actual issue, she opted for a different tack.

"Did you hear what happened last night?"

Pilar slipped her bag from her shoulder. "With Peeves or that James chucked you?"

Lily's eyes darted up to her friend's face. "He left me at the masque alone for forty-five minutes on a platter for the gossip-mongers, but he didn't break things off. He did try to lie to me about where he'd been though."

"I see. Well, that wasn't terribly bright of him."

She nodded in agreement. "He sent me this last night with a paper rose." Lily pulled his note from her pocket and passed it to her friend.

Pilar read it carefully before offering an opinion. "This is a rather…non-specific apology."

"Yes, it is," Lily concurred, unable to stop an amused grin from pulling at her lips. The awkwardly written note seemed to be trying to cover as much as possible, almost as though he wasn't entirely certain which of his actions had her upset.

"So," Pilar said passing the note back to Lily. "You want my input on what, exactly?"

_Straight to business then_. She took a deep breath. "I think I've botched this business with James."

Pilar studied her for a moment. "Go on."

"I'm not sure exactly what I did, but I think he might be…disappointed."

"I'm not surprised," Pilar said as she sat on a boulder, taking care to ensure that her pleats would not get mussed. "He has pursued you for a very long time. Boys who pine like that have expectations—definite ideas about who he thinks you are and what it would be like to have a relationship with you. There's no way you can live up to that."

Lily nodded. That was what she feared.

"Why did you initiate the relationship?"

"What?"

"What were you looking for? What did you want from him?"

"I—" Lily's face lit up in a spectacular blush, and she couldn't meet her friend's eyes or finish the sentence.

"I see," Pilar said in a way that managed not to sound remotely judgmental. "And has he delivered in this capacity?"

Lily bit her lower lip. "Somewhat. We've done…_things_. But we haven't shagged, even though I've made it clear that I would like to."

"Why do you think that is?"

She felt her throat begin to burn with oncoming tears. "I don't know. It seems like he's…out of reach. Like he's trying to keep me at arm's length." She fought the tears. "It almost feels as though he's over me, and put off by the things about me that weren't what he anticipated, but he hasn't figured it out yet. Honestly, I wasn't all that surprised that he just abandoned me in the middle of the masque. It was almost…I felt it coming."

Wringing her hands, Lily sat beside her friend on the boulder. "Admittedly, though, I've been much more withholding. I've done everything I can manage to keep from building an emotional connection with him."

Pilar patted Lily's hand. "You're afraid of pain," she said gently. "Everyone is. It doesn't make you a tart or a bad person. You went after Potter because he seemed like a smart bet, and you were attracted to him. Just because it's not going well does not mean that you're evil or conniving. Many people have attempted to build relationships out of much less and with much shoddier motives."

"But that's just it," Lily said miserably. "I do feel dirty about it. And everyday…it's worse because I—I don't just want a good shag anymore. He's so funny and playful, Pilar. He's so confident it—it's as though it never occurs to him that he can't do something. And he bandies his faults about like he's not even threatened by them. Have you seen those proofs McGonagall has him work on? They're so complex—it's like looking at a language I've never seen before. He has this little kitten, and he plays with it for hours—there are balls and bits of string all over the dormitory…."

She might have continued, but Pilar cut her off, "You're trying to say that you're falling for him?"

"Yes," Lily's voice was soft even in her own ears.

"That complicates things."

"Yes."

"And you want my advice?"

"Yes."

Pilar was silent for a moment, choosing her words. "First off, forget about last night. He apologized, and you're more upset over your feelings of rejection and humiliation than you are about what he did, so let it go. Next," she paused, and when she spoke again she prefaced her suggestion with, "if I were you, I would get what I came for and get out."

"What?"

"Sleep with him, have your own moment of disillusionment where he doesn't live up to your expectations, and then ditch him." She rose from her seat so that she was facing her friend. "Feelings are not rational, Lily. They are what they are, and they are not what they are not. You can want him with everything you are, but that doesn't mean he'll want you in return. It's fairly clear that he's not as enamored of you as we had all predicted he would be. It could be that he was disappointed, or it could be that it was all about the chase, and now that he's caught you, he's bored. But boys who are smitten with their girlfriends don't disappear for almost an hour in the middle of a date, and then lie about it."

"I…" Lily was already shaking her head. "I can't do that."

"Why not? Because you're too attached? That's only going to get more intense from here. Right now, it's wounded pride and hurt feelings. If you wait for him to get through with you, you're looking at another broken heart."

Lily finally lost the battle with her tears.

"I'm just suggesting you be practical," Pilar told her soothingly.

Lily gave a short laugh as she wiped her wet cheeks. "That's not what my mother would say, and Mel would be horrified if she could hear you right now."

Pilar considered that for a moment. "Perhaps, but you did not come to your mother or to Melody. You came to me." She sighed heavily. "You want different advice? Very well. If you're already too far gone for it to make much difference either way and you want to try to hold onto him, you have to give it an honest go. You are going to have to open up to him, allow real intimacy to take place. Otherwise, you're just jumping off a cliff."

Pilar stooped to pick up her bag. "I have to go, Lil. Otherwise I won't be able to eat breakfast before class."

Lily nodded.

Stepping forward, she kissed Lily on the forehead. "If you need to talk some more, find me after lessons. I'll be in the library."

After Pilar left, Lily contemplated her advice for a long time. It just seemed so cold…so wrong. But then, Pilar was right in that Lily had sought her, not Melody, and it was undeniable that this was because she knew that she would get very different types of advice from her two closest friends. Melody didn't put much stock in gut instincts or fate, but she was, at her core, a romantic. She wanted Lily to be with James, and was convinced they were a wonderful match, no matter what the evidence said to the contrary.

Pilar, on the other hand, was deeply intuitive and believed Divination was one of the best ways one could know oneself. Yet, when it came to romantic relationships, she was nothing short of pragmatic. Pilar's father was an ambassador for the Spanish Ministry of Magic. He was well known throughout all of Europe and powerful in many foreign governments. Her two elder brothers, Alejandro and Miguel, had been married off in what could only be described as political marriages. Pilar and Marisol knew that such was their future as well. Lily couldn't help but marvel at Pilar's acceptance of this; if her parents tried to arrange a marriage to someone she'd never met because it was a "profitable alliance" she would sooner run away. But Pilar took it for granted as a fact of her existence, and was completely at peace with the notion. She dated a lot of boys, but few could call themselves a boyfriend. She extricated herself before she became emotionally entangled, knowing that her future was not her own.

Taking that into account, Lily supposed that it was little wonder Pilar had given her such advice. Lily couldn't deny that if one discounted all emotions, it was rather sound counsel, that it was perhaps the smartest course of action open to her, and yet the fact of her feelings was inescapable.

She sat on the boulder beside the lake, ignoring the chill of the early November air. When it was finally time to prepare for her first lesson, she had resolved to implement a compromise: she would get what she came for, and then see if she had it in her to cut her losses. If she found herself too besotted for that to be possible, then she would set about giving this relationship with James, as Pilar put it, "an honest go." With any luck, James would realize he couldn't walk away either.

* * *

James turned the knob beneath the nozzle so that the water was as hot as he could stand it, and stepped into the shower. It had been a _long_ day.

The general shittiness had started when he woke up late and didn't quite make it to Transfiguration on time, garnering his first detention of the year. Worse still, he had missed Lily, invalidating his reason for sleeping in the common room in the first place. He wasn't sure how he'd thought that would put him in a position to reconcile anything; he only knew that he had never felt worse in his life than when he had made Lily cry. It wasn't as though he had never been subjected to female tears before—quite the contrary, in fact. Between his mother's histrionics and his rather momentous early years of dating, he had very near developed an immunity. But Lily's tears were different. Perhaps it was nothing more than the fact that he had never seen them before in over six years of knowing her, but he doubted it. It was much more likely that he was an even bigger sentimental ponce than he had originally thought. Watching this girl in particular cry because of something he had done was nothing short of agony. With this guilt had come a rather intense need to make things right.

Strange, but it wasn't until she had risen from the table last night and was walking away that it occurred to him that he might lose her over his little stunt. Lose her before he actually had her—how rich. She had barricaded herself up in her room, and he'd heard the shower running for a long time. Resolving that she probably didn't want to talk to him just then, and knowing that he would likely be more successful in his request for forgiveness if he let her cool down first, he had conjured a paper rose and written her a short letter, in which he apologized for everything he could think of that could possibly have her upset. Of course, he knew enough about women and their daft logic to entertain the possibility that what had made her cry was something he hadn't even considered.

He had camped out in the common room so as to catch her before lessons. When he woke to an empty dormitory and a hungry kitten, however, he resigned himself to the reality that making up with Lily was just going to have to wait.

After double Transfiguration he had headed down to the Great Hall for lunch, hoping to see Lily. He had just missed her, but would hardly have had time to notice her even if she were there because, as it turned out, there was an all out war going on between two of his mates.

It seemed that last night, after James had taken and disposed of all the contraband used in their little caper, Peter had realized that he had forgotten to give James the Marauders' Map. Sirius had told him to hand it over, insisting that he had a plan. Apparently, this plan consisted of telling Filch it was a bit of parchment he had been saving for just such a moment, and that he intended to sketch the Peeves/Filch to preserve the history for posterity. This had resulted in the "bit of parchment" being confiscated, and needless to say, Sirius was the only one who thought this was funny. Remus quite particularly had taken offense, which was not surprising considering that the complex charming of the map had been primarily his work. The other three had helped of course, but it was the diligent Remus who had finally cracked the spellwork that had made the thing functional. Sirius' biggest contribution was the charm that made the map insult anyone who tried to view it without the password phrase. Hilarious, yes. Comparable to Remus' ninety-plus hours of labor, no.

When James had joined his mates at the Gryffindor table for lunch, a slightly fearful Peter had sidled up to him and whispered that Remus and Sirius were on the outs. That was a hell of an understatement. The two of them were practically snarling at each other, and according to Peter, that had been going on all day. It was his mates' usual brand of bollocks—Sirius surly that someone was coming down on him for something that was "just bit of fun," and maintaining that he hadn't done anything wrong; Remus, meanwhile, offended but spineless, having the high-ground but spoiling it completely with his attitude. James had listened to them fight clear through Defense Against the Dark Arts, which mostly consisted of Sirius baiting Remus with innuendoes about his lycanthropy that got less and less veiled while Remus snapped his quills in half rather than deigning to retaliate, and everyone else staring at them with confusion and wariness. And then at dinner, Remus, that passive-aggressive _ninny_ Remus, slipped a mixture of ipecac and motherwort into Sirius' pumpkin juice. This particular blend caused Sirius to vomit uncontrollably for almost an hour, and then pass out.

James supposed he really couldn't be angry on Moony about that, in light of the fact that Sirius had drugged Remus' pumpkin juice on no fewer than four previous occasions with various substances. Still, James was weary of playing mediator to their fuckwit antics. Was it too much to ask that the two of them act like adults? Usually Remus was mature to a fault, but there was something about Sirius that brought out the absolute worst in him, and Sirius was never meaner than when he smelled Remus' blood in the water.

Though, if James were entirely honest, the real reason Remus' juvenile reprisal had him irate was that it took his Keeper out of Quidditch practice for the day—and his Keeper needed bloody practice. At the last meeting alone, eighteen Quaffles had gotten by Sirius and James was getting nervous. There was being off your game, and then there was playing like shit. This was the latter, and Gryffindor had a match against Hufflepuff, the first of the season, in less than two weeks. James didn't have time to sort through his best mate's bollocks, but he didn't have time to find a new Keeper either.

On the whole, Sirius had been an unremitting arse since his breakup with Maggie. James didn't really want to think about what that could mean, Sirius' ex-girlfriend having been an unforgivable annoyance over the past year and a half. But maybe it wasn't about missing her—maybe it was about whatever had gone wrong. James remembered their last fight, when it had been clear that the two of them had been having bedroom troubles (not that they had actually made it to a bed often). James couldn't help but notice that Sirius had lived celibate since ending things with Maggie. Sirius was not the sentimental or romantic sort, and James had never known him to abstain before. All that begged the question of what had happened in that twisted little relationship to transform his best mate from a lovable git to an intolerable bastard.

James shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. The locker room had long gone quiet as his team had showered and headed up to Gryffindor Tower almost a half an hour ago. He dressed slowly, dreading what was to come. Lily.

He had spent the better part of the day desperate to talk to her, to apologize, to do whatever he had to do to keep her. Now that he had the time, he didn't have the energy. After double Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, playing arbitrator to the most asinine argument he'd seen in years, dragging Sirius up three flights of stairs to the Hospital Wing while he vomited his lungs out, and then four hours of Quidditch drills sprinkled with Vane's shrill whinging and Robbins' pathetic jokes, James had nothing left for Lily. And he had a feeling getting her to talk to him again would take his best sincere face and some quality groveling.

Tossing his equipment into his locker and slamming it shut, he berated himself, not for the first time, for lying to Lily. He had little doubt that the fib had been the final nail in his proverbial coffin. Worse, it was nothing more than poor judgment on his part; common sense said that she would hear about the prank and know he had been involved. She wasn't stupid for fuck's sake. If he had stopped to think even just for a moment instead of rushing like a fool to get back to her, he might have formulated a better plan.

He trudged up to the Head Dormitories, waving absently when a few people hollered out to him in greeting. He stared at the grumpy fairy that guarded their portrait hole for almost a minute before it snapped at him to hurry up with the password. Groaning, he indulged the sentry.

"Lily," he called when he entered the common room. There was no answer and the dormitory was silent and still. He walked to the foot of her staircase and peered up at her door, which had been left ajar. Her room was dark, but he heard a kitten meow in response to his voice and he smiled. For all Lily declared that she didn't like cats, she seemed to get on with his rather well, and Pumpkin had decided she rather preferred sleeping in the Head Girl's room.

It appeared that Lily was not there. Just a moment before, he had been thinking that he did not have the fortitude to take her on tonight, but his spirits drooped even further at her absence. It wasn't just that it meant she was still avoiding him, it was that he wanted to see her regardless of the circumstances.

He beckoned to his cat, but she still did not emerge from Lily's darkened doorway. It seemed his pet was pleased enough with his return to acknowledge his presence, but not enough to get up from wherever she was napping.

He sighed and began the ascent up his own staircase. When he pushed open his door, he froze stalk still at the sight before him. _Merlin, Morgana, Circe, and Godric_….

Lily was kneeling on his bed. Her white shirt was unbuttoned and open to reveal a silky black bra and knickers set. She still wore her maryjanes and kneesocks, but her robes, skirt, tie, and jumper were strewn about his floor. Her vibrant hair tumbled freely down her back and about her shoulders, a few locks tickling the tops of her breasts. Her eyes met his boldly, even as her skin flushed.

His broom slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor.

It would seem that she wasn't so angry with him after all.

His mouth opened awkwardly, and he almost asked what she was doing here. But it was a reflex, an automatic response brought on by shock. Really, it was difficult to misapprehend her purpose.

Instead, he opted for, "Evans…that…my…fucking hell…." _Excellent choice, wanker_, he rebuked himself. _Very articulate_.

She lowered her hands to the bed and began crawling toward him. The sexiness of the position, coupled with the incredible view of her tits it gave him, was enough to elicit a groan.

When she reached the end of the bed, she climbed down and started walking toward him. "Shut the door, James," she whispered.

He didn't have to be told twice. Yes, he had advised himself to wait. And he had. He had waited for the longest damn month of his life. He was a teenaged wizard for pity's sake, he wasn't built for abstinence. Especially when it came to the girl who was his obsession—this girl, who was willing and half-naked in his room.

Well, he noted with inner chagrin, it certainly hadn't taken long to talk himself out of his master plan to get Lily to fall in love with him before progressing with a physical relationship. Perhaps he didn't want her that way as much as he had originally thought, or perhaps he was just too tired. Tired of fighting against giving what she wanted, what _he_ desperately wanted. This was the culmination of the better part of every perverted fantasy he'd had since he was thirteen. Why deny himself?

When she reached him, it took her a moment to meet his eyes. What he saw there gave him pause. He noted for the first time that her hands were shaking, and that her pink skin was not the result of her desire.

He cupped the side of her face. "Why so nervous?"

Lily smiled up at him shakily. "I've only done this once," she confessed. "And that was about two years ago. I was also a little intoxicated at the time, so I don't really remember it. And you…you've done this a lot. So I'm nervous."

For a moment, all he could register was the first part of that statement. She had only done this once. Something inside him loosened and softened. Until this moment, he had avoided admitting to himself that he had been holding onto the revelation that Lily was not a virgin. That he had been imagining a torrid history involving every bloke he ever remembered her smiling at. He knew it was tremendously unfair given his own history and that it made him an antiquated arse to be put off by the thought, but he had been. Once…once was a relief. Once he could live with, hypocritical bastard that he was.

Then comprehension of the second half of what she had said landed. She was scared that she would fall short of the other witches in his past, that he would be comparing her to them. He gazed down at her for a moment a bit dazed; she had never let herself be so vulnerable in front of him before. One of the many walls she had built to keep him out was crumbling. Maybe it wasn't a lost cause after all. Maybe she was falling for him.

He dipped his head and kissed her softly. "You have no reason to be nervous."

James didn't know that for certain, but he would bet a fairly large sum on it. If his experiences over the past month and a half were any indication, every other girl he'd slept with should worry about being compared to Lily. He refused to tell her that though. He wanted to comfort her, not expose the chinks in his own armor.

She gazed at him for a long moment, as though transfixed. It was a slightly uncomfortable stare, and he fought the urge to squirm. Then she stepped forward and, leaning into him, brushed her lips against his. Yes, she was nervous, but it seemed that she had made up her mind.

A wave of tenderness came over him, and he pushed all thoughts to the back of his mind. He didn't want to analyze why this girl and this moment were so important to him.

James swept Lily up into his arms and carried her to his bed. He made to lay her out like a delectable treat that he could climb in beside, but she seemed to have other plans. She rose up onto her knees and kissed him hard. Her hands held his head in place as she ravaged his mouth and her nails lightly scratched the back of his neck. Her teeth found his lower lip and bit down in a way that was playful, yet demanding.

He felt it in his cock. All at once his gentleness snapped, and he felt something distinctly animalistic rising in him. She was making it inescapably clear that she didn't want him to be careful with her because she was inexperienced. She wanted something a mite more aggressive, and he was all too happy to oblige. He doubted he would have been able to hold back anyway.

He seized the white shirt at her shoulders and pushed it down her arms. He returned her kiss, and heard her moan as his tongue touched hers. Once her offending shirt was removed, he reached behind her and made a grab for the fastenings of her bra.

Lily pulled her lips from his. "No," she protested.

James froze, immediately confused. "What's the matter?"

She drew herself up and looked at him squarely. "You've already seen me naked. Fair's fair."

"Is that so?" a conceited grin spread his lips at her demand.

She nodded. "And I want to do it."

He was taken aback for a beat. _Merlin, she said the sexiest things_.

Lily dragged her teeth along her lower lip the way she always did when she was about to launch herself at him, and he braced himself. He was not disappointed. She was on him in a second, making short work of his robes, jumper, and tie. It was when she began to part his white button down shirt that she seemed to get distracted. She stopped short at the sight of his brown nipples and lithely toned chest. Her tiny hands abandoned the soft fabric in favor of his hot, freshly washed skin. Her fingers traced downward, stroking the sparse trail of black hair that led south and disappeared into the waistband of his trousers.

James found himself swallowing at the expression of rapture on her face. He was a confident bloke, almost to the point of arrogance, but standing next to Sirius all through puberty had kept his looks in perspective. He knew he was wiry and shorter than average, that his face was too long, and his knees too knobby. His torso, though hard with muscle, was narrower than he would have liked. He had never much cared about these things; experience had taught him that his appearance was serviceable enough, and that girls were more drawn to a good laugh, fancy flying, and a brash faith in one's abilities than a pretty face anyway and he had never lacked for female attention. Still, he couldn't deny how it felt to have Lily look at him this way—as though he were the most beautifully masculine thing she had ever seen. He actually felt color rising on his cheeks, and he couldn't stop himself from leaning forward and capturing her mouth in a kiss.

She groaned in her throat and pulled him closer, pressing her bra-clad chest into his bare one. Suddenly, James felt dizzy. His naked skin was touching her naked skin, and it was everything he had thought it would be when the idea had first occurred to him in his pervy early adolescence. His fingers tightened on her hips, covered only by the strappy silk of those tiny black knickers. Lightning-hot blood was charging and humming through his veins. And for the first time, shagging Lily Evans seemed like an attainable reality. Greedily, he wanted more—more skin on skin than the clothing they were wearing would allow.

He shucked his shirt to the floor and immediately reached for his belt.

"Oi!" she protested, wrenching her mouth from his. "I said I wanted to do that," she panted as she watched him pull down the zip of the trousers.

"I know you did." He leaned forward and kissed her neck hungrily. "But you were taking too long."

He let the wool fall down to his ankles, and then stepped out of his shoes and socks. As he was kicking his trousers and socks away from where they had tangled themselves at his ankles, he heard Lily make an anxious and breathless whimper. His eyes darted up to her face and saw that she was gazing at his cock, fully erect and straining against the cloth of his drawers hopefully. It seemed more or less ridiculous that she should be surprised at this—what sort of reaction had she expected him to have to her seduction? But she was looking at him like that again, the way she had at his chest just moments earlier. Didn't the chit know she was playing with fire? And Merlin knew his head was big enough already.

Her gaze never wavering from the bulge in his boxers, James watched as she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and sucked on it. A moment later it reappeared, wet and glistening.

With a growl, James pushed Lily backward onto his mattress, and she landed with a startled giggle. He pounced on top of her and took her lips in a rapacious kiss. She strained her body up into his.

God, there was so much of her. She engulfed him. Every stretch of her milky white skin sent heat and overwhelming pleasure through him at the barest touch. He had never been so aware of another person in his life—her every movement, her every sound, her every breath.

"Lily," he groaned, shifting so that his hands were free to cup her breasts.

The slippery material teased the pads of his fingers. His mouth dropped to her jaw and then her throat. He could feel her pulse working frantically beneath his lips, and she swallowed hard when his lips lowered to her collarbone.

Without any real warning, Lily raised herself up off the mattress somewhat. James pulled back, blinking and slightly dazed. A moment later, she tossed her bra to the floor and James rumbled in appreciation. There they were—those magnificent breasts that drove him mad. Merlin, had he really gone two weeks without seeing them, without touching them? What the hell was the matter with him? Restraint be damned, he was never going that long without a fix again.

Both his lips and his hands stroked those rosy-tipped peaks with something between reverence and mania. The little noises she was making in response caused his poor cock to pulse. He did his best to ignore that impatient organ; he had waited four years to slide into this girl, and he could bloody well wait a little longer.

One of his hands was in league with his cock, however, and traveled down her body to see if she was ready at least. When it slipped into her knickers, he felt that her cunny was fairly sopping with cream. A noise of longing ripped through his throat. "Wet," he said, tugging her nipple with his teeth. "Good God, you're so fucking wet."

"Well," her voice was small, but whether that was from embarrassment or arousal, he couldn't tell. "I got started before you did."

That comment had his attention. He lifted his head to look at her so suddenly he felt his glasses slide down his nose. One of his hands rose to push them back into place, but the other remained motionless in her knickers. "What do you mean?"

She was panting slightly, and she rubbed her sodden heat against his fingers in an antsy way. "I—I've been up here waiting for you for a while…lying on your bed. Thinking about w-what we would be doing, and smelling you on the sheets…."

James gaped at her. "You were touching yourself? Here? On my bed?"

She nodded, color rising on her throat.

James thought he may have grunted like an animal at the thought, but he couldn't be sure. All his mind could focus on was the image of Lily spread out here on his coverlet, fingers in her little black panties. And he had been wasting time in the bleeding shower down at the pitch.

"Were you thinking of me?" he asked bluntly.

Lily nodded again.

He gulped and closed his eyes. His cock was going to burst.

"Did you…?"

Lily hesitated before admitting, "Twice."

_Merlin, she had already come twice? Thinking of him._

His fingers slipped into her slick hole easily, and he rubbed her swollen clit with his thumb. She threw back her head and moaned.

James moved up her body and kissed her harder than he ever had before, probably bruising her lips. His control was completely gone.

"Remove your knickers for me," he commanded in her ear.

Lily scrambled to obey, his fingers still inside her. Her trembling digits brushed against his as she worked the bit of fabric down her legs. Her hips wriggled as she shimmied out of her last remaining article of clothing, but James held his hand steady. She gasped at the sensation, riding his hand for a moment. Every inch of her was fucking incredible. She was perfection, and he couldn't believe she was letting him touch her like this.

Groaning, he bit her earlobe. "Shit Lily, you feel so good."

She seemed to have lost her powers of speech and merely nodded.

"Here," he rasped, "I'll show you."

She whimpered in protest when he withdrew his probing touch, but her breath caught when he covered her left hand with his right. Slowly, he guided their hands up her quivering thigh to her downy auburn curls. He trailed wet kisses along her jaw, and pressed two of her fingers with two of his into her heat.

Lily gave a little scream and bucked her hips hard. James was in paradise—or hell. He couldn't really decide which. All he really knew for certain was that he had to get inside her. That he had to feel what his fingers were feeling on his cock.

She was stretched wide with four fingers inside her, and there wasn't much room to maneuver, but her walls clenched their fingers together as he slowly moved them in and out of her, his palm pressing hers into her clit. Her other hand was gripping his bicep in time with the finger thrusts.

"James…oh, _yes_…."

His mouth dropped to her chest and his tongue laved a glorious tit.

Abruptly, her right hand deserted his arm and slipped past the elastic of his boxers. James cried out when her grip closed over him.

With a deep growl, James ripped her hand away and pinned her arm above her head. "Don't touch me like that," he said. "You have no idea how close I am to coming."

Lily's eyes were wide, but then they closed, shuddering in excitement. When she opened them again her voice was more than a little breathless. "That's all right." A devilish smile curved her lips. "It's more than all right."

He moaned and shook his head.

"I can get you hard again," she promised.

James barked a humorless laugh. She had no idea how true that statement was. Hell, he doubted if he'd ever _not_ be hard again.

She licked her lips, and he was mesmerized. "I—I want to touch you. I want…to taste you," she insisted.

James sagged against her for a moment, all strength leaving his limbs. The thought of Lily's mouth on him, her slick tongue stroking him, brought generous amounts of pre-come to stain the front of his drawers.

His voice was unsteady when he spoke. "Not this time. I need…" he didn't know how to finish that sentence without sounding like a complete ponce. Goddamn it, this girl owned him now. "I need to be inside you," was the best he could manage.

She studied him a moment, then nodded.

She pulled her fingers out of herself, taking his hand with her. Then she plucked at his boxers, working them over his jutting cock and down off his hips. His cock brushed against the soft flesh of her inner thigh, and he almost came.

"What are you doing?" he asked through clenched teeth.

She met eyes with him, her face flushed with exhilaration and desire. "Do it," she whispered.

"What?" he breathed sharply.

"You're fit to burst and I'm dying. Foreplay is wonderful, but we have all night, James." Cupping the back of his neck with her free hand, Lily brought his mouth down to hers. She kissed him passionately.

"Do it," she begged against his lips. "Put it in me."

And in that moment, he was utterly lost. There was nothing he could do but position himself at her entrance and part her folds. He couldn't look at her face, terrified that she would see his feelings in his eyes.

That first touch, that first inch, nearly killed him. His body quaked atop hers as he sluggishly fed himself into her. And yet, it was still too fast. _Oh bugger, he was going to come_.

Lily made to shift beneath him, but his hand clutched her hip and held her down. "Don't move," he warned her.

She stilled with a moan.

James remained motionless for what felt like ages, pushed into Lily to the hilt, eyes tightly shut. His fingers were gripping her hip perhaps too roughly, but she didn't complain. His other hand still pinned one of hers above her head, and her quick shallow pants were driving him mad. She was so hot, so slick with molten cream, and her strong walls had him in a vice so tight he was certain he was dying. It wasn't right that she should feel like heaven.

Yet Lily was patient with him. She kept perfectly still, and said nothing. Gradually he regained enough control to begin to move in careful, deliberate pumps.

Lily released a blissful sigh, but he still held her hip steady.

His eyes flew open when he felt his glasses being pulled from his face.

With a tiny smile, Lily placed them on his bedside table. "I didn't want them to fall off and hit me in the face," she confessed.

He nodded, still not able to speak, concentrating on his slow rhythm. He had kept his glasses on as long as possible because he had wanted—needed—to see her, to see them and what they were doing. But the glasses had to come off sooner or later; James had enough experience to know that shagging was a little too rowdy for them not to become a nuisance.

He gathered a little speed and released her hip. James traced her lips with his thumb, and then lowered his mouth to hers. She kissed him with such eagerness and voracious lust that he was unable to keep from slamming his hips into hers. She cried out and bucked up into him.

From there, there was no turning back. He couldn't stop himself from jerking into her wanton body without control. Lily's legs wrapped around his hips to pull him deeper into her heat. Her body shook and rippled beneath him at his every thrust. Her hips rose to meet his in frantic waves. He felt the heels of her maryjanes digging into his arse as he pounded her into the mattress, each fuck-stroke harder than the last.

He was vaguely aware that she was screaming her pleasure and that her fingernails were digging into the back of his neck, but really, he was too busy babbling to hear her.

"Lily…love…oh God…oh _fuck_."

His face fell forward into the crook of her neck and nestled into her soft, flaming hair. James felt Lily tense and spasm beneath him, around him. It was all he had been waiting for. His muscles contracted with sweet, ecstatic pain and, with a roar, he spilled himself inside her.

When he came back to himself, it was to feel his body bonded to hers by a layer of sweat, her ankles loosening their grip on his waist and sliding to the bed. He could feel her now lazy pulse against his cheek.

It was with a wave of panic that he swallowed the emotions rising in his chest. _No_. _Goddamn it_…_no_. But his denial was of no avail. There was no getting around it, no ignoring it. He was in love with Lily Evans.

And she was going to chew him up and spit him out.


	11. Revelations Between Lovers

**11**

**Revelations Between Lovers**

James was scrubbing tea kettles and bookends in Professor McGonagall's enormous store cupboard wishing, not for the first time, that he had been given detention by a teacher who favored him a little. Cleaning _with_ the aid of magic was torture, let alone cleaning without it. McGonagall, though his Head of House, advisor on experimental spell proofs, and patron in all things Quidditch because he kept the inter-House competition cup in her office, certainly didn't grant him leniency when he overslept and turned up to her class ten minutes late. After he finished with these it would be on to the beetle jars and mouse cages. Still, he had to concede, the work itself wasn't the worst of it. What had him ready to bang his head on the shelf in front of him was that he had somehow been paired with Peter for this evening of punishment. And Peter wouldn't stop talking.

"…just looked at me like he wanted to hit me. And because it was, you know, Sirius and he hits like a troll club, I'm glad he didn't. But don't you think this is getting ridiculous?"

James made a noncommittal noise in his throat.

"Remus is no better; he's just less violent. You try to talk sense into him and he ignores you, all calm like, and keeps right on with his sketchpad—as though you're not even there. What are we going to do, Prongs?"

"Leave them alone," he replied simply. "They'll work this out on their own, in their own time. They always have."

James' hand stopped scrubbing for a moment, knowing he was lying. The last time Sirius and Remus had a falling out of this size was at the end of fifth year, after that whole business with Snape, and James knew full well that Remus' feelings of betrayal had never been properly resolved. Sirius had exposed his friend's darkest secret and weakness to an enemy, and placed that enemy in the path of Remus' transformed self. James didn't like to think of what would have happened if Snape had bitten or killed. The years in Azkaban would have been nothing compared to what Remus would have done to himself in guilt and penance.

To this day, however, Sirius maintained that the "prank" had been hilarious, and that Snape would have deserved anything he got. Remus had never confessed what that night had done to him, and James had refrained from telling Sirius that the next day, Remus had been sick two times at the thought of what he might have done. It was the only occasion James had ever seen his perennially agreeable and unruffled friend cry. Sirius and Peter, who had been complicit in the scheme, had spent the morning in Dumbledore's office with Snape, and James had kept his peace about Remus. Blokes just didn't bandy about that one of their mates had broken down, had sobbed for hours, and James respected Remus too much to break his confidence.

Truth told, James himself had been shaken to see his friend in such a state. Watching Remus turn into a werewolf every month had redefined James' ideas about bravery, about pain. Yet Remus never lashed out.

Sirius' caper, Snape's near miss, and most of all, the morning after he had spent with Remus, had humbled James. It was while staring at Remus' tear streaked face and bandaged limbs in the dawn's light that it occurred to him that he could not continue as he had. That all pranks were not in good fun, that people could be hurt in ways that would never heal, that one moment of foolishness could destroy an entire future. It was the morning, the moment James had become a man.

Perhaps it was shameful that it had taken something so large, something so very nearly catastrophic, to wake him up, but there it was. James' fabled reformation began that day. It wasn't absolute, and he'd had slips and relapses, but he was giving it his best effort, and all it took was the grateful look in Remus' eyes to harden his resolve if ever he was tempted to revert to his old ways of careless rascality.

Because, of course, James' chief concern was keeping Sirius in check. It was crucial that James never grew lax in this, because he was the only person who could. The truth of it was that Sirius didn't feel bad. Not about what he had done to Snape or Remus, not about almost anything he had ever done to anyone. It was a rather ingrained trait, and certainly one of Sirius' most appalling. It was also, James reflected wryly, genetic. He would never say so to his mate's face, but the Black family, the whole lot of them, had trouble with remorse. It took quite a lot for Sirius to feel guilt—perhaps because empathy was so foreign to him. The Black family was very near wizarding royalty, and they had a stubborn arrogance instilled in them from childhood, a preoccupying self-involvement that made it extremely difficult to step into someone else's shoes.

Understanding this about his best friend did not lessen the bond between them. Sirius was someone so essential to James' existence, that many times he seemed more like a brother than a mate. James trusted and loved him above all his other comrades, and, as his parents had unequivocally taught him by words and example, love was not conditional. Yet, while there was no affection lost in light of Sirius' failings, there was nothing to be gained by pretending they didn't exist, either. There was also no denying that James had the power to amplify or diminish this trait with his influence. In the days leading up to that horrific night, he was guilty of the former. Even now, though he had not been in on the planning or execution, had not even known what was going on until it was happening, James felt responsible for what he had not done to prevent it. The way he saw it, his handprint was every bit as visible on the scheme as Sirius' and Peter's were. Remus deserved a better friend than that—Sirius deserved a better friend. So James strove to be worthy of them and what they needed.

But Sirius, who had never known what was good for him from what would get him hurt, maimed, or killed, missed the old James and complained weekly at his absence.

James' lip curled a bit spitefully. However much he _loved _Sirius, he very much wanted to beat him over the head with the tea kettle he was scrubbing just now. He had been grumbling to James over lunch just today regarding how unreasonable Remus was being about the map's confiscation. James would have been inclined to agree, if the root of the argument was even remotely related to the Marauder's Map. But it wasn't. It was about the Snape prank of two years ago, the event that had altered Sirius' relationships with James and Remus irrevocably, and it baffled James that he had yet to put two and two together. For someone so gifted at spell theory, geometry, and making females of all ages amenable, Sirius could be incredibly thick sometimes.

True, this was as much Remus and James' fault for not telling him. They pretended it was not a problem to Sirius' face, though their actions screamed otherwise. Remus had been too spineless, too cagey about showing weakness to Sirius to own up to his feelings, and James had convinced himself that it was Remus' tale to tell. But perhaps that was just evasiveness—cowardice even. Perhaps he too was anxious of how Sirius would react. At best Sirius would get uncomfortable and quiet, act as though they had said nothing, and skirt the issue whenever it was brought back up. At worst, he would go on the offensive, attack.

It was draining, this tiptoeing around, and James' current prevailing sentiment was that Sirius could go fuck himself.

"Maybe you're right," Peter conceded hopefully. "I just hope they make up soon. It's right annoying, yeah?"

James made another ambiguous noise in response. Fond as he was of Peter, he didn't want to talk at all, let alone about the exhausted subject of their mutual friends' ongoing quarrel.

He had actually been looking forward to this time. One good thing about scrubbing and polishing was that you didn't need to concentrate overmuch on what you were doing while you worked. He hadn't had much time alone with his thoughts since Monday, when the feud had erupted—when he had first made love to Lily. Since then, his days had begun by waking up next to Lily, perhaps having a romp or two that may or may not cause them to miss breakfast, then on to classes, meals, Quidditch practice, mediating Sirius and Remus' barbed comments, and every spare moment he got, losing himself in Lily. Over and over again.

He couldn't seem to help himself. He had skipped meals to sneak off with her, led her into empty classrooms during their patrol rounds, and every free period they had in common was spent in his bed. Before he knew it, it was Saturday and he hadn't once cleared time ponder, analyze what was going on around him. He had wanted to give these hours in detention to considering Lily and what was happening between them. But a Dung Bomb Peter had been carrying around for some unfathomable reason had fallen out of his pocket and gone off in McGonagall's classroom on Thursday, and he had received detention as well. That Peter had been assigned the canary cages was a small comfort. His friend had already been assaulted by bird droppings twice.

James picked up the next tea kettle and paused at the sight of the floral relief decorating the side. It was a bouquet of flowers. Lilies. He stared at it a moment. She would be waiting for him when he finished, perhaps on the sofa in the common room for a study session, perhaps in his bed for something better. A thrill ran through him at the thought.

Too good to be true. She, all of it, was too good to be true. What had he done to deserve her waiting for him?

But then, it wasn't perfect—not remotely. She didn't love him; that was evident. As eager as she was to shag his brains out, the distance between them was still palpable. All he had to do to hold her was roll over in bed, and yet she was still out of reach.

Despair choked him a bit. After all, what more could he do? What more could he give?

"You're thinking of Lily, aren't you?" Peter's voice carried to his ears.

James looked up sharply, snapping from his reverie. "What makes you say that?" he asked as blandly as he could affect.

Peter shrugged, a toothy grin on his face. "After a good five years, I know your thinking-about-Lily face."

He supposed he shouldn't be too surprised he was so transparent. After all, Peter had known him for a long time.

"You must be so happy," Peter continued.

"Yeah?" James said. "Why's that?"

"You got her," Peter said simply. "I knew you would."

James barked a surprised laugh at that. "Really?" he said skeptically.

But Peter nodded, his face earnest. "You always get what you want, Prongs."

Taken aback for a moment, James stared at Peter. Then a smile bloomed over his lips as James felt buoyed by those words. His mate had a point there. He couldn't give up now, not when he was closer than ever to achieving his desire. Nothing with Lily had ever come easily, yet he was expecting her love to be as automatic as his. Of course he was going to have to work for it, bleed for it—she wouldn't be Lily if he didn't have to. If she was out of reach, he was just going to have to chase her.

"Thanks, Wormtail."

* * *

Alida was just exiting the Library, balancing a large stack of books in her arms, when she caught sight of something that alarmed her. She did a double-take, at first doubting her eyes, but there was no mistaking Maggie and Sirius, or the racket and fuss they caused when they were together.

The two hadn't had any sort of identifiable conversation in over a month, much less a fight, but that wasn't what troubled Alida. Maggie and Sirius never seemed to be…well, _done_. A confrontation here or there was to be expected. What had Alida racing toward them was that Sirius was pulling Maggie by the arm while the dark-haired girl struggled. Not only that, Maggie was crying, begging Sirius to let her go—but he ignored her.

Alida didn't even bother to set down her books; Sirius had just yanked Maggie around a corner heading for the stairs. There wasn't time. She followed them at as much of a run as she could manage in halls clogged with students, all of whom seemed to be in her way, and a load of books that was probably too heavy for her under the best of circumstances.

She called out once or twice, but she was fairly certain that neither of them heard her. Sirius dragged Maggie down flights of stairs, from the fourth floor to the first, and Alida struggling to keep them in sight. When she saw them turn down a corridor ahead of her, she realized that they were headed to the Hospital Wing. She didn't give herself the chance to wonder at that or its potential implications. All that mattered was making sure that Maggie was all right.

Alida prepared herself for an uncomfortable scene, punctuated perhaps by Sirius' full attention on her—something that unsettled her under the best of circumstances—and pushed the doors open.

Sirius was shouting. "Poppy," his voice rang out. "Poppy!"

Taking a moment to marvel at his audacity to call the school's Healer by her given name, Alida slowly advanced into the room. There was no need to run now; they weren't going anywhere.

He still clutched Maggie's arm, and Alida's friend gave a soft whimper that echoed in the enormous, empty room.

There was a bit of commotion in Madam Pomfrey's office before the door burst open and the young Healer bustled out. Her eyes narrowed and she huffed indelicately at the sight of the young man who had addressed her so informally. "What's all this then?" she demanded.

Sirius jerked Maggie forward. "Is there some examination you can do to see if she's pregnant?"

Alida had been edging forward but she stopped abruptly at his words.

_Did he just say pregnant?_

Pomfrey sputtered. "I'm sorry Mr. Black, you wish for me to…."

Black took a deep breath and responded much more calmly than he had before. "She says she's pregnant. Is there any way you can tell for certain?"

As Pomfrey surveyed the young man and woman before her, Alida noted that she did not seem overly surprised. After a moment she sighed. "Yes, of course. Just a moment while I gather supplies." She strode over to some cupboards near her office. "Miss Bagnold, you'll need to lie down on one of the beds," she called over her shoulder.

Alida bit her lower lip and tried to blend in with the walls, suddenly wishing that she had not followed her friend here. She was almost frozen in indecision and discomfort. Long ago she had vowed that she would be strong for Maggie, if no one else, no matter what the circumstances. But this…she didn't know what to do about this.

Sirius led Maggie to one of the beds, but she didn't climb onto it immediately. Alida heard a faint sob, and Sirius turned to look at the girl he had just dragged to the Hospital Wing. His eyes flared wide for a moment as though he were noticing her tears for the first time.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

Alida almost didn't hear Maggie's answer. "I'm scared. I don't…I don't want to know…."

His face softened and he wiped her tears away with quick, efficient strokes of his thumbs. "How about this then," he said. "I'll loan you some of my legendary Gryffindor courage for a spell. I won't even hassle you about paying it back."

Maggie gave a short laugh that was distorted by a half-snivel.

Sirius bent and lifted her up into his arms, then gently placed her on the bed. When he made to withdraw, Maggie snatched his hand and held it so tightly her knuckles were white. He let her.

If Alida had been uncomfortable before, it was nothing compared to now. She had always wondered what her friend had seen in this crude, arrogant pillock, but she had a feeling she'd just seen a glimpse of precisely that. Alida had always scoffed inwardly at Maggie's insistence that Sirius was different when they were alone, but maybe there really was another side to him.

Except they weren't really alone this time. Alida swallowed and averted her eyes.

Pomfrey approached the bed with a few items tucked under her arm. "I'm going to need you to take a step back, Mr. Black," she said brusquely. She reached out, grabbed the curtain, and began to bring it around to create some privacy.

Sirius didn't move immediately. "Why? It's nothing I haven't seen before," he said with a smirk.

Maggie released his hand and swatted him on the arm, hard.

His smirk became a more genuine grin. "_There's_ my girl."

Without another word, he backed away and let Pomfrey pull the curtain between him and his ex-girlfriend. Maggie and Pomfrey now hidden from view, Alida studied Sirius with curiosity. He leaned against the wall, straightened his cuffs, and studied some potions on a nearby shelf. Without Maggie to keep his attention, however, he seemed to finally sense Alida's company. His eyes found her and he froze for a moment, as though not sure how to react. Alida chewed her lip and looked at her shoes.

"All right there, Lida?" his voice rang across the room. "I didn't hear you come in."

Her eyes darted up to look at him, and she shrugged. Her voice was somewhat caught in her throat.

It was embarrassing to say the least, but even after knowing him for six years, Sirius Black still intimidated her. She didn't have Maggie's confidence and forcefulness. To Maggie, Sirius was just a young man—a young man she loved, but a young man nonetheless. To Alida, Sirius existed out of her spectrum. He was too handsome, too brilliant, too confident—too much. He made her feel even smaller than she was, not deliberately, but simply by the fact that his presence was large enough to fill a room, and his strength radiated off him in waves. She felt insignificant by comparison, and never knew what to say to him.

The two of then stood there in strained silence for a few minutes, the awkwardness a tangible thing between them. Alida could hear the large clock on the wall ticking, each second punctuated by the sound.

When at last Pomfrey pulled back the curtain, she announced for the benefit of all three of them, "Miss Bagnold, you are not pregnant."

Alida saw Sirius, who had seemed so composed just a moment ago, sag against the wall behind him in apparent relief. He rubbed his face in his hands, and spoke over Maggie, who had started to ask the Healer a question.

"You're sure?" he asked for clarification.

Pomfrey nodded. "Quite."

A smile formed on Sirius' face, and he had the look of a man who had just dodged the Killing Curse. Then something seemed to occur to him and he turned a suspicious glare on Maggie.

Pomfrey saw this, and rushed to the young woman's defense. "It was a reasonable assumption on her part, as my examination shows that she has not had her monthly in over eleven weeks." She turned to Maggie. "I can only wonder that you didn't come to me earlier."

Maggie said nothing, her eyes fixed on her knees. Pomfrey, however, was clearly waiting for a response.

Sirius remained unaware of this. He pushed away from the wall. "In that case, there is an essay for Flitwick calling my name," he said as though they had been discussing the weather a moment ago, and not his prospective fatherhood.

"Wait!" Maggie reached for his wrist, but missed.

Sirius turned to face her.

"You…you could stay…."

He was shaking his head even before she trailed off. "No I couldn't. We're done, Maggs. Even if you were pregnant we'd still be done." He paused. "I'm…past you, pet," he added, his cold words in contrast with the surprising gentleness of his voice.

Maggie began to cry again.

Sirius thanked Madam Pomfrey, nodded to Alida, and left.

For a moment, the only sound in the room came from Maggie's weeping, but Pomfrey broke the silence. "Miss Bagnold, the reason your menstrual cycle has halted is because you have lost an extreme amount of weight in a short period of time. You are well below your healthy weight range. Am I right in assuming that you are not eating?"

Maggie did not respond, but with Sirius gone, Alida found her voice. "Yes. She hasn't been eating."

Pomfrey scowled. "You body is too undernourished to support a child, so your reproductive system has shut down. There are also mystical narcotic substances which I'm sure no Hogwarts students would be foolish enough to use, that destroy fertility as a side effect. Abuse of these is usually accompanied by vomiting, nose bleeds, and extensive memory loss." The Healer let that sink in, looking pointedly at Maggie's raw nose which had probably bled four times in the past week. "As these drugs are illegal, I'm sure you know nothing about them. But if anyone were using them, I would, of course, heartily advise this person to dump them down the nearest toilet before permanent damage to the circulatory, reproductive, and nervous systems occur."

Alida winced at the look on Maggie's face, but she hoped that Pomfrey had reached her friend in an area she had not been able to assert any influence at all.

Pomfrey gathered her supplies and carried them back to their proper place, leaving the two girls alone. Maggie buried her face in her hands and began to bawl in earnest now. Alida sighed in what could have been interpreted as relief. _This _she knew how to handle.

She climbed up beside her friend on the hospital bed and wrapped her arms around her. Maggie turned her face into Alida's neck as the sobs shook her.

"He's gone, isn't he?" The words wrenched from Maggie's throat. "He's really gone this time."

Alida wished that she could lie, but knew it would be of no use. "Yes. He's gone."

* * *

Lily was watching James sleep, curled up on her side next to him. He really was quite a heavy sleeper. He looked even more boyish in his slumber than he did awake, though some of that may have been owed to the sprinkling of almost translucent freckles on the bridge of his nose she had discovered. His glasses rested on the bedside table, and he almost didn't look like himself without them. His bare chest rose and fell with his even breathing, and his tightly muscled arms were stretched above his head. There was so much contained in this boy, he overwhelmed her, befuddled her. But now it was all silent.

A wave of affection tore through her. She was mad about him.

Shifting slightly to keep her leg from falling asleep, she winced as dull pain shot through her. She was quite sore, but then, shagging whenever one could manage it would do that sort of thing. Even if their lovemaking had been tender and slow every time, it was likely she'd still ache. James, however, was rather…vigorous more often than not. Lily didn't mind in the least—in fact, feeling him pound and rut into her was heavenly while he was doing it. Not only that, there was a perverse sort of satisfaction that came from being shagged raw. She couldn't take so much as a step without being reminded that James had been inside her, and suddenly, even though she was already sore, she couldn't wait for him to be again.

He did have his odd little quirks, though. She supposed all blokes did, if Melody was to be believed. He liked to leave his glasses on as long as possible. She understood that, she supposed, if he really was as blind as he seemed without them. But more often than not, they became a bother before she was finally forced to remove them from play. He wouldn't kiss or touch her in public, and most certainly not in front of his friends. He would hold her hand as he walked her to classes if the crowds were heavy, but that was essentially it. She supposed she didn't mind much as she was a bit of a private person herself, but he had always seemed the affectionate type. He was certainly demonstrative with his mates, and she couldn't help but wonder why he would throw his arm around Remus' neck, but not hers.

The habit of his that had her most perplexed, however, was that he would not let her pleasure him. He had never said or done anything overt, but things always seemed to take a turn when she tried to lavish the same attention on his body that he did on hers. James had made love to her orally on several occasions, but Lily had never been able to give in return. He would distract her with beguiling kisses if she started to move in that direction, and she found herself beneath him in a matter of moments more often than not. She supposed it really wasn't something to complain about, except that it seemed odd. And, well, she rather wanted to reciprocate—quite badly in fact. Strange, but the act became inordinately appealing when not accompanied by Rafe's importunate wheedling. "Come on Lily, _please_ suck me off."

Maybe…if she woke him up a blow job things would be different?

She considered that for a moment, and had to stifle a giggle at the thought of the look on his face when he realized what she was doing. But she didn't have the heart to wake him just now. He had been running himself ragged all week, and she had no idea how he even had the energy to shag her after the four and five hour Quidditch practices he put himself through every day. Today, he had spent the morning down at the pitch, and then the afternoon serving detention with McGonagall. It wasn't even time for dinner yet, but he was sleeping soundly.

Her hand reached out and stroked his hair lightly. It stuck out at weird angles even worse when he slept, but it was always so soft.

Lily was just withdrawing her hand when she heard a shout.

"Prongs!"

She jolted at the sound of Black's voice, sitting up and tugging the sheet to cover her nakedness reflexively. She heard James groan beside her.

"Prongs!"

It took her a moment to register that the yelling was coming from the drawer in James' bedside table, not the common room.

Grumbling profanely, James stretched his hand out to pull the drawer open, his eyes still closed. Lily watched as he withdrew a small cosmetic mirror displaying his best mate's face. "What the bleeding fuck do you want?" he demanded.

Black seemed to find that amusing. "Just to see if you fancied a game of Exploding Snap, but I can see that you are otherwise occupied." He tilted his head to the side appreciatively. "You were right, mate. I'll never say a word against her tits again."

Lily gasped. She had covered herself expecting someone to come through the door, never anticipating the intruder might approach from the right. From the front, she was as modest as could be managed, but from the side…. Without thinking, she had just exposed a decent side-shot of her naked body from chest to bum, though she didn't know how much Sirius had actually been able to see given his angle.

She reacted faster than she would have thought possible, whipping the sheet up to shield herself, but James was even faster. He plunked the mirror down in the drawer and slammed it shut, Black's laughter still audible.

James turned to Lily, now wide awake, his eyes fearful. "I am so sorry, Lily. I wasn't thinking…."

She shook her head. "It's all right," she reassured. And it was. Mostly. After all, it was hardly news that his best friend was a pig. Black's sense of humor may have been inappropriate, but Lily was reasonably unashamed of her body and she very much doubted the interloper's glimpse would be in any way memorable for him. The rumor mill had it that Black had seen far more naked witches than was his fair share. But then, so had her boyfriend.

Lily stopped those thoughts right there. She didn't want to get herself jealous.

None of that prevented her from being mightily embarrassed. Reclining back against the headboard, she strove to calm her blushing skin. She felt James caress her cheek, and she lifted her eyelids to look at him.

"Are you sure?"

For a moment she was struck dumb. Without his glasses, his hazel eyes seemed so intense and…_close_. They were gorgeous—a million different colors fading into each other.

His brow furrowed. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "Yes. Your eyes are just so pretty."

James seemed a bit bemused for a moment. Then he laughed. "_My_ eyes are pretty?"

There was nothing to do but kiss him. How could she have ever thought he was a fling, a rebound? Pilar's advice had fallen by the wayside, and she hadn't given it a second thought all week. It had been ludicrous to think she would be able to walk away after experiencing what it was like to have James make love to her.

She paused. Pilar's advice—the second set. She hadn't thought of that either. Mostly because thinking while James kissed her was hard. What was it her friend had said? Real intimacy, an authentic bond. She had told Lily to put herself out on a limb. Terrifying advice, that was. But it somehow felt…right, so very right just now.

Lily pulled back from the kiss. He watched her, slightly puzzled.

She bit her lip and tried not to be distracted by the sheet that had crept so low it barely covered his hips. Intimacy, right. Her mother had always said that true closeness came from knowing the best and worst of each other, and not allowing either to weaken the bond. By showing the other person the parts of you that were normally hidden, and allowing them to show you theirs. She considered that a moment and lit upon an idea.

"Potter, tell me a story about you."

"What?" he chortled at the suddenness and strangeness of her demand.

"Tell me about something you're ashamed to have done. Something that haunts you—a bad memory," Lily elaborated.

He studied her for a moment, his smile fading. "You're serious?"

She nodded.

"Now?"

"Yes."

He looked away. After a moment he slid down, so that his head again rested on his pillow. She followed suit, lying beside him. The seconds ticked by, and after a time, Lily became convinced that he was not going to respond. When he spoke it seemed sudden.

"I grew up in the West Country, in this little village called Godric's Hollow."

"As in…?" Lily let the question dangle when she realized she had interrupted him.

But he answered anyway, nodding. "The very same. My family's estate is a fairly big place, just on the outskirts. We have quite a bit of land, and there's a pond about a mile down from the south end of the house. Every spring and summer we would get all these ducks and geese. I used to love to feed them, and my mother would take me down with our old bread a few times a week. She would read to me while I threw the crusts in the water." His face was pensive. "I really liked the baby geese. They were bigger and funnier looking than the ducklings. I wanted to keep one as a pet," he smiled ruefully. "My mother was scandalized—the thought of a filthy bird running rampant through her pristinely kept home."

James rolled onto his side so that they were facing each other. "When she said no, I went and sulked in the stables. There was a room there in the back that used to be a living quarters. Nobody lives there now, but a few generations back, when the Potters were much more respectable and had loads more money than we do now, the stable master slept there."

Lily grinned. "If I didn't know better, Potter, I'd say you were trying to impress me."

James barked a humorless laugh and his face was grim. "If only, love. If only."

Her mirth faded.

"It was just this little room with a cot, a basin, and a cupboard. I used to hide there when I wanted to be alone. It was also where I stashed anything I didn't want my parents to find.

"Well, that day, I waited a few hours and then snuck back to the pond. I tried to catch the goslings, but they were…quite a bit faster than I had anticipated. I fell in the pond, of course, and the mother bit me as well."

Lily's smile reappeared at the image of a young James scurrying about his family's pond, chasing baby geese.

"Finally," he continued, "I managed to catch not one, but three. I took them back to the room in the stables, shut them in the cupboard temporarily, and then slipped into the house to change out of my wet clothes before my mother saw me.

"When I came back down, my father heard me and called me into his study." James averted his eyes and traced the embroidery on his pillowcase with his finger. "He had just bought me a new broom, the first of the Nimbus series that I ever owned. It flew higher and faster than any broom I'd ever been on. Five seconds on the thing and I was in love."

He glanced back at Lily, and she didn't think she'd ever seen him looking so dour. "I forgot about the goslings," he told her, and she inhaled sharply. He nodded. "They died. I was horrified when I found them. Their little bodies were so shriveled and limp, and their faces—" he broke off.

James rolled onto his back and turned his gaze up to the ceiling. "I wrapped them in a blanket and buried them over by the pond. I never told my mother why I didn't want to go visit the ducks and geese anymore, and after a while, she stopped asking."

Silence stretched between them for a few moments before Lily spoke.

"How old were you?"

"Five or six," he replied. He rubbed his face with his hands. "Look, you said you wanted a bad memory."

She moved closer to him and pressed a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He looked at her in surprise. "What was that for?"

"Comfort."

It seemed that he didn't know how to respond to that, so she kissed him again, this time on the mouth.

When she pulled back, she whispered, "I once burned down an old mill."

He raised a brow at that, something of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"It wasn't on purpose," she defended, knowing what he was thinking.

"Yeah?"

She settled so that she was on her stomach, propped up on her elbows and facing him. "I was born up north, in one of those ghastly industrial cities. Sooty air, dirty streets, and all that," she said playfully. Really she was rather fond of her home. "My dad's a foreman, so we do well enough—not like Sev's family." The last part slipped out without her even thinking about it. She swallowed briefly, then pushed on.

"Dad smokes like chimney and Mum's always on him to give up the 'disgusting things.' Maybe he should have listened to her, because when I was about twelve, curiosity got the better of me and my elder sister Petunia."

Lily reached over and pulled her pillow to her. "Tuney and I didn't do much together at that point—though we did more then than we do now. We haven't really gotten on since I got my Hogwarts letter and she didn't. Sev thought she was jealous, but I wonder if she was just lonely. I left her behind and entered a new world without her. It's just become worse with the years."

This time she didn't stumble over the mention of Severus. It went against the purpose of what she'd started to avoid the subject. The point was telling the truth about the things she wished weren't true. If the travesty that came of the friendship she'd had with Severus Snape didn't fit that definition, she didn't know what did. Besides, the reality remained that he was far too intrinsic to this story, to the whole of her adolescence, to cut around.

Then there was Petunia—she was talking to James about her sister. Lily didn't even talk to her closest friends about Petunia. She took a deep breath; this was much harder than she thought it would be.

"It was important," she pushed on, "to have Tuney in on it, to convince her that she wanted to try it too. See, my sister is something of a snoop and a tattletale. The only way I could ensure that she wouldn't find out and tell Mum and Dad was to have her every bit as culpable as I was. Luckily for me, Petunia had discovered boys at this point and she had a mad fancy for Morgan Baxaron." She shot a conspiratorial grin at James. "Absurdly enough, Morgan's younger brother Rafe was my first proper boyfriend."

Lily raised her hand to sweep her hair out of her eyes. "Morgan was far too old for Petunia—he had just started at university and she was barely fourteen, but there was no use telling her that. She began taking her tea without cream because she heard that Morgan didn't care for it. She wore blue almost every day because it was his favorite color. So, when Tuney saw him smoking one morning in the alley, I knew it was the only chance I would get.

"We took two of my dad's cigarettes and snuck out one night. I was afraid of the dark streets, so I brought Galahad, our old Great Dane, with us. I think Petunia must have been as well, because she didn't complain even though she hated that dog. The old mill was just out of the city. No one had used it in a good fifty years for work, but children played in it quite a lot. The place was in such disrepair that bushes and the like were growing up from cracks in the floor."

Lily stopped. She was getting to the hard part. James reached out and caressed the side of her face with his palm again. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes.

"We reached the mill, and lit up. We each had a few puffs. I rather liked it; she didn't. She said we ought to go back; I didn't want to. One thing led to another, and Tuney and I did what we do best: we rowed. I won't bore you with the details, but the gist was that I am a supernatural freak, and she is tiresome prig. I threw my cigarette away and stormed out with Galahad—don't know why. She was the one who wanted to leave, and I was the one who wanted to stay, but I guess it carries as much sense as anything else in our relationship."

She opened her eyes. "I was almost across the field and back to the sidewalk when Galahad started to bark. I turned around and saw that the mill had caught fire. My cigarette must have landed on a bush or something, and with the summer having been so dry, it didn't take much for the blaze to get out of control." Lily swallowed heavily, tears pricking her eyes. "I ran back, of course. Petunia was still inside. Either she couldn't get out or she was panicking so thoroughly that she couldn't think straight. That was certainly the case with me. I was absolutely useless. All I could do was scream, and cry, and circle the building calling her name. I swear, it never even occurred to me to use magic."

She grasped James' hand to hold it in place against her cheek. She knew he wouldn't like this next part. "I don't know how Severus knew I was in trouble, but he always knows. He drew his wand calm as anything and cast the most elaborate spell I've ever seen. This gigantic hand made of smoke lifted Petunia out of the fire and dropped her on the grass without so much as a burn. Don't get me wrong when I say this, because there are quite a few gifted wizards and witches in this school, but Sev's a prodigy. I mean, my God, he was only twelve. Of course, he has a bit of an advantage—his maternal grandfather is always teaching him all sorts of wild spells." A realization dawned on Lily, one so obvious in retrospect that she felt foolish. "Dark spells," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

She remembered that she had run to him and thrown her arms around his neck. It was without a doubt the longest, tightest hug she had ever given. It was also the first time she had kissed Severus on the lips. It was a kiss of celebration and thanks. He had saved her sister, and in that moment, she wouldn't have cared if he'd used an Unforgivable to do it.

But she didn't tell James any of that. He wouldn't take kindly to it, and baby steps toward intimacy or not, some things just weren't his business.

She snapped from her reverie. "Sev received a formal warning from the Improper Use of Magic Office, informing him that if he cast another spell outside of school before he became of age, he would be expelled. But he said that he didn't regret it. He walked with us back home and helped me sneak Petunia inside.

"The next morning, at breakfast, Dad was in a rage about damned irresponsible kids after he read the morning newspaper. Tuney and I never confessed. We were too ashamed, a-and worried; the man who had owned the mill was dad's boss."

Her hand dropped from James' wrist and she looked down. "I think it was the last straw for Petunia, though. Magic terrified and repulsed her more afterward, not less. She thanked Severus by clubbing him with a tree branch, and she's barely said a word to me since."

Lily rested her head on the pillow in her arms, and fought the urge to recede into her thoughts. She glanced up at James and saw that his eyes where burning with lots of questions—questions she wasn't ready to answer. Just telling the story left her exhausted and emotionally raw, so she took preventative measures.

"Thank you," she said before he spoke.

That took him aback. "For what?"

"For just listening."

She saw him take the hint, and he nodded, slight disappointment on his face. Lily felt bad cutting this session in "real intimacy" short, but she had nothing left to give just now. She would answer his questions, she promised herself, just not right now.

He collapsed back against his pillow and sighed. She hesitated, then sidled up to him, resting her head on his chest and throwing her leg between his. She couldn't see his face, but somehow she knew that he had smiled when she did this. He kissed the crown of her head lightly and the two of them rested in silence for several minutes.

James was the first to speak. "So, you're not an Arrows fan by chance? You're right in Arrows territory it sounds like, and if you support them, you know I'll have to dump you."

She smiled. "No. Actually, I support the Wasps."

He made a choked noise of surprise. "You're a bloody Stinger? Don't guess that goes over well where you're from."

"Well, I don't go around telling people, now do I?" she turned and propped her chin on his chest so that she could see his face.

"You told me."

"You asked."

"The Wasps aren't bad, but I'm a bit of a Falcons man myself."

"Yes, but the Falcons don't have Dirk Lehane."

That tripped him up a bit. "He's a…fair Keeper."

She nodded, though she didn't really know. "He's also right sexy."

"Ah," realization shown on his features. "So you pick which Quidditch teams to support by sorting through the pretty faces, is that it?"

"Obviously," she teased back. "I can barely follow the game itself. There's got to be _something_ there for me to watch. And you shouldn't complain—I support Gryffindor not because it is my House, but because they have a right sexy player, too."

"Damn it! Not you as well? I knew it—all the girls love Sirius," he pretended to be upset.

She rolled her eyes. "No, of course not Sirius. Why would I be interested in a bloke with hair shinier than mine?"

James wasn't finished playing. "Well, then…hmm. McGonagall and Vane are out right out, unless you favor birds. Robbins and King likewise, unless you like crass wankers with extra chins, or duffers with breath so foul it could kill flowers. Latchford then?"

She picked up her abandoned pillow and hit him with it. He wrenched it from her grip and flipped her over onto her back, pinning her arms above her head. He kissed her hard on the mouth. She responded heartily, then used her legs to throw him off her.

Their playful wrestling degenerated into playful shagging, and they were late to dinner.

* * *

"Um, Severus," Regulus' voice intruded.

Severus looked up from his Defense essay. The younger boy was looking nervous and uncertain. He was chewing on his lip and his eyes kept darting to the floor.

"I…may have just done something really stupid," Regulus told him as he lowered himself into a seat beside Severus at the study table.

Severus didn't doubt that. "Indeed?" he said coolly.

"Well, Jill and I were in bed just now, and she was doing her usual prodding about our assignment. My brain, ah, wasn't doing much of the thinking, and I said something I oughtn't and she…sort of, figured something out," Regulus related in a halted and worried sort of voice.

Severus waited a moment for him to continue. When he didn't, Severus prodded. "Well?"

The younger Black winced at his tone. "She—she put together that my brother and Potter were the informants that got Dexter killed."

Severus shot to his feet. "She what?"

Regulus looked down but didn't repeat himself. Severus fairly growled. For Salazar's sake, this boy was a moron—he'd put the entire Death Eater movement at risk for a bit of cunt. Jillian was not likely to sit on this information. She would to do something reckless, and therefore ineffectual, and she would do it immediately.

"Where is she now?" Severus demanded.

Regulus shrugged helplessly. "After Sirius and Potter, I expect, but I don't know where…" he trailed off because Severus was already striding from the Slytherin common room. Regulus jumped up to follow.

Fortunately, if one were heading directly from the Slytherin dungeons to Gryffindor Tower, there was really only a single obvious path. Severus and Regulus caught up with Jillian down the fourth floor corridor. It was just before curfew, so the space was deserted. Severus didn't waste time with pleasantries.

"_Petrificus Totalus_," he cast.

Jillian seized up and pitched forward. Regulus caught her before she hit the floor, but only just. He looked up at his mentor as if asking what to do now.

Severus instructed by example. Not even pausing his purposeful steps, he stooped, lifted the girl's ankles and motioned to Regulus that he intended to carry her into an empty room.

The Muggle Studies classroom was eerily lit by the moonlight that filtered through the windows, and the walls were lined with harebrained contraptions only non-magical people could dream up.

Severus and Regulus hefted Jillian onto Professor Mudan's desk. "_Enervate_," Severus reanimated her with no small amount of reluctance.

She vaulted down from the desk quicker than Severus expected, and kicked him in the shins.

"Bastard!" Jillian was fairly spitting like a feral cat in her rage.

"Jilly!" Regulus took hold of her arms and pulled her back against him.

"Insipid bitch," Severus snarled as he gripped his leg.

She made to attack again, but Regulus' voice rose desperately. "Stop it, _please_!"

Severus took several breaths to calm himself, but his face was still twisted malevolently. Jillian was glaring at him as though she wanted to kill him.

Deciding to take control of the situation, Severus released his leg and stood as tall as his lanky body was built. "If you attack Potter and Black now, you'll succeed in nothing but putting them on their guard and alerting Dumbledore. A plan is already in place," he said in a tone that brooked no disagreement. "Regulus and I will deal with those hyenas."

"Wait," Regulus was alarmed. "_We_ will?"

Severus nodded.

"I don't believe you," Jillian declared venomously.

Severus raised a brow at her coldly. "Just what do you think our orders are?"


	12. Proper Quidditch Pitch Conduct

**12**

**Proper Quidditch Pitch Conduct**

James gathered the moving diagrams demonstrating the maneuvers the Gryffindor Quidditch team had been drilling for weeks under his arm and exited the Captain's Office. They had time for a quick review of strategy and his best effort at a pep talk before they were due on the pitch.

He could feel the pre-game nerves gnawing at his stomach, and he had not been able to eat breakfast. His team was not as solid as he would have hoped. Robbins was born to be a Beater, but Latchford was passable at best. Sirius' Keeping was still spotty, and James was beginning to wonder if retaining King as Seeker had been a colossal mistake. Maybe he should have just taken Peter's advice and played the position himself. James was a better Chaser than he was a Seeker, and he enjoyed scoring much more than hunting, but there had been the good of the team to consider. His only consolation was that he, McGonagall, and Vane were the best Chasers in school. If they racked up enough points at the beginning of the match, it wouldn't matter if the other team had superior players in other positions.

Gryffindor would do fine against Ravenclaw—probably. But Slytherin was a worry, as always, and Hestia Jones, Jack Stebbins, and Geoffrey McKinnon made the Hufflepuff team downright scary. Luckily for Gryffindor, Hufflepuff's weakest player was their Keeper, Irving Bungs. Still, James was not feeling the least bit confident about this match. If it weren't for the fact that he would need his adrenaline desperately very soon, he might have taken a swallow of Calming Draft.

When he stepped out into the changing room, however, he drew up short. His trepidation spiked to alarm.

Piper Vane was leaning against a row of lockers, picking at her closely shorn nails and yawning. Eddie Robbins and Ronan King were chatting on a nearby bench, tightening their protective pads. Latchford, Melody, and Sirius were nowhere to be seen.

"Piper, what the hell is going on?" he demanded as he approached the dark-haired girl.

She looked up and shrugged lazily. "Bollocks."

"Bollocks?" Merlin, he hoped not. He didn't have time for that.

Vane nodded. "This morning Xavier caught Sirius and Pilar snogging behind a tapestry and he just blew up. You know, the usual, 'You led me on! I thought we had something special!' dragon dung. Don't know why he's being such a little girl about it. Everyone knows the Garzas don't date exclusively. I guess he thought he was the exception." She rolled her eyes to demonstrate exactly what she thought of Latchford's presumption.

James swore. Just what he needed: a Beater and a Keeper hacked off at each other right before a big match.

"He chased her down into the Great Hall, shouting that she was a slag. Sirius punched him out and broke his nose. Professor McGonagall broke up the fight and gave them both detention."

His blood froze. "Sh-She didn't…?"

"No, no," Vane reassured him quickly. "She didn't suspend them from play, but Xavier did have to go up to the Hospital Wing to get his nose fixed."

James felt himself sag with relief, but then she said something that made his stomach seize once more.

"But I haven't even gotten to the best part yet."

"No?"

Vane smiled in a way that seemed a mite vindictive to James. "After Xavier was carried out, Melody got up from the Gryffindor table calm as anything, walked over, and dumped her porridge down Pilar's blouse."

"Why would she do that?" James asked, genuinely puzzled.

She laughed. "You're not serious?"

He raised an impatient eyebrow to indicate that he most certainly was.

"It's never occurred to you that Melody might want Sirius for herself?"

James knit his brows, "I thought she was still with Peaks."

Alton Peaks had been the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain during James' fifth year, taking over for Integra Towler. She had held the position the two previous seasons, but in her seventh year had decided that her N.E.W.T.s were more important than Quidditch. Peaks had settled more or less with Melody after first sampling Andeara Jamison, Junie Harmer, Noël Plyer, and, if the rumors held any credence, Bernard Jakes. In fact, now that he thought about it, James wouldn't have been surprised in the least if during the reigns of Towler and Peaks, the Gryffindor Quidditch team had been the most debauched and incestuous organization in all of Hogwarts. Though _he_ had never abused his position as Captain to get in a girl's knickers (or a boy's pants for that matter), it was clear that such circumspect behavior did not safeguard against the convoluted relationships and unexpected drama the way he had hoped—not when the rest of his team was still behaving like animals.

Vane laughed again, and James was starting to direct some of his irritation toward her as well. "Merlin, no. He chucked her ages ago. Besides, Mel's fancied Sirius for years."

James raked a hand through his hair in frustration. Of course she had. Every bloody girl in school panted after his best mate—or maybe that was just his bitterness talking. Maybe he had spent too many years watching Sirius smoothly charm every bit of skirt in every room he entered, while he, James, had to work for it. Maybe he was already too annoyed with Sirius over too many other things to look at the situation objectively. But, really, that didn't matter. The fact that half his team was acting like imbeciles didn't matter. What mattered was the match.

He took a deep breath. _All right Prongs, one thing at a time_.

"Where's Melody now?" The authority and aggravation in his voice surprised even him, and King and Robbins broke off their conversation to stare.

Vane blinked at him once before she answered. "Er, the broom shed."

James nodded curtly and shoved the diagrams at her. "Study these—all of you. I'll be right back with the rest of our ruddy team."

He exited the changing rooms and strode toward the school's communal broom shed. No serious flyer or Quidditch player rode the school's dilapidated besoms, nor did they store their own brooms there—to do so would be begging for sabotage. But that didn't mean they didn't know where it was.

Melody was near the back, sitting on the floor with her knees drawn up against her chest, her back propped against a rack of old Silver Arrows. James paused before steeling himself and walking forward. He wasn't completely inept when it came to emotional witches, but he still didn't seek them out except in cases of necessity.

She looked up at his approach, and he was immensely relieved to see that she was not crying.

"Morning Captain," she greeted him with a forced smile.

He nodded. "Morning."

She looked back down at her knees. "I reckon you've heard what happened?"

"Do I need to warn the Hufflepuff team to watch out for bowls of porridge?"

Her smile was a bit more genuine this time. "I won't bring any on the pitch," she promised.

And for a moment, James actually believed that was going to be it, that matter was settled and the girl was calm, reasonable. He should have known better.

He reached his hand down to help her up, but she didn't take it.

"It was just such a shock—I mean, this whole thing seemed to come out of nowhere to me."

Oh…balls. Was she kidding? She actually wanted to _talk_ about this?

"I guess…I just don't understand…why?" She rubbed her face roughly and James looked away, knowing the display was to hide tears.

Melody had always played the part of one of the lads. She told crass jokes, could hold her liquor, and had never once wanted to talk about her "feelings" the way most girls seemed to. James couldn't help but be slightly dismayed and exasperated that she was choosing this morning of all times to succumb to her gender.

If she really wanted an answer, James had it. Why had Sirius picked Pilar? Because Pilar was a good ten times prettier. Melody, in fact, was rather plain. She tended to seem even more so next to her two closest friends, and Merlin knew that Sirius prized flash over function. Never mind that he and Melody had a compatible sense of humor, that they shared a love of Quidditch and crosswords, that she never would have cowed under his exhibitions of temper—that she might be good for him. Sirius, without fail, chose women who were gorgeous but brought out the worst in him. However, since Melody was a weepy girl he needed to become the Scottish spitfire he knew she could be for the match that would begin in fifteen minutes, James doubted the truth was the way to go.

He was just formulating an appropriately comforting lie that he could segue into a suggestion that they head back to the changing rooms for the pre-game briefing when Melody spoke.

"I…don't know why she'd do this. We had a pact. Neither of us would go for him given the chance, because we both wanted him. Some nonsense about our friendship being more important than any boy."

Shit. It was worse than he thought. She wasn't wondering about Sirius' motives at all, but rather those of her longtime friend. He resisted the urge to groan. Goddamn it, they were going to be in this shed all day.

"Pilar just isn't the sort to put a bloke above…well, anything really. She's the one always going on about how a boy isn't worth this or that—not like Lily. _She's_ hopeless. Can't seem to help giving her boyfriends third, fourth, and fifth chances."

She looked up at James. Her eyes were slightly watery, but she was doing her best to put on a tough face. "Good news for you I suppose, and I don't reckon I'll mind much if it's you she's forgiving without rhyme or reason. But that Rafe tosser was an idiot, and I never could stand Severus. She's just desperate to believe the best of the people she loves, even when they prove her wrong over and over again." She paused. "In Severus' case, add a few more overs." Melody smiled weakly at her own joke, sniffled, and looked down, her arms tightening around her knees. "But for _Pilar_ to do something like this…I can't help but take it a bit personally."

_So_…_did that mean_…? James had barely been able to listen to that last part, his mind having snagged on the tidbit about Snivellus she had just casually thrown on the table. He was supposed to be getting this girl to the pitch for fuck's sake. Not to mention that she was a friend, and he should be more concerned with her feelings. He wasn't a completely insensitive clod, and yet…. Bugger, he was going to hell.

"Just how many reprieves did she give that greasy Slytherin?"

"Too many," Melody answered. "But then, I can't throw many stones there. I let Peaks get away with murder. Girls can be funny about their first loves."

James' eyes widened and something painful inside him exploded. _First love_. He felt bile rising in his throat. Then came a kind of jealousy, a kind of rage, he'd never experienced. The rumors and jokes about Lily and Snape had been around for years, so, sure he'd known, but he hadn't _known_. The difference between knowing and _knowing_ was much greater than he could have conceived.

"So," he managed through gritted teeth, "Lily and Snape were romantically involved, were they?"

Melody's eyebrows rose in alarm. "You didn't know? I thought for sure that she would have told you. She's absolutely rubbish at keeping secrets."

"Well, she sure as shit kept that one close to the chest." Even as he spat the words, however, there was a niggling memory in the back of his brain of that day in the forest when he and Lily had talked about their sexual experience. She had been more than willing to tell him everything he wanted to know, but he hadn't wanted to know anything, and this was why.

Melody's face grew tighter the longer she studied James. It was clear she was regretting her glib remarks and her assumption that James and Lily had no secrets between them. "Look, I—"

But James cut her off. "No, I'm glad you told me—and it's not like I didn't suspect already. When something pretty is in the Knut bin, there's always a reason why."

Lily's friend looked at him as though he'd just announced that drowning puppies was his favorite pastime, but he didn't care. He wanted to hit something.

"Let's get out to the bloody pitch." He turned and marched from the shed without checking to be sure Melody was following.

When he entered the changing room, all conversation ceased. Sirius and Latchford had turned up. Latchford was glaring malevolently at Sirius, hunched over on a bench. Sirius, however, had evidently been waiting for James and opened his mouth to speak, but James held up his hand to silence him.

James knew that it was his job to give encouragement before a big game, but he was finding it difficult. His blood was on fire. Primeval aggression was pumping through his system, and for the first time, he was sorry he wasn't a Beater. His team didn't look much better: tired, put upon, and even mutinous, in the case of Latchford. Not a one of them had their mind in the game, or was remotely pumped for the match. This was not good, and James knew he should care, but the truth was he didn't near enough to do something about it.

Instead, he voiced the sentiment that was on all their faces. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Lily's day had begun pleasantly enough.

She had woken when James climbed out of bed at six. When she had asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, he had replied that he always rose early on Quidditch Saturdays, even when Gryffindor wasn't playing. She had rolled over, groaning and cursing, and he had laughed. When he had bent down to kiss her goodbye, however, she'd found herself holding him there, pulling him into a deeper kiss. Within a matter of minutes, the two of them were making love. Afterward, she had begged him to stay with her a bit longer, and so he had.

At seven, he went down to the pitch to begin warming up, and she had tried to get back to sleep. She soon realized, however, that she was far too awake for that to happen. Perhaps James was rubbing off on her, or perhaps good-morning shags were just a capital way to start the day. Actually, if she were honest, she was just plain _happy_. She could scarcely keep a silly grin off her face as she dressed.

She'd fed Pumpkin because James had forgotten, then forewent breakfast herself to get some studying done in the library. Gathering everything she would need to write her Ancient Runes essay, she'd settled herself in a quiet corner to get some work done. Then eleven o'clock rolled around and she had headed down to watch the match.

That was when the day had taken a slight turn.

She had been assailed by the news that her two closest female friends had indulged in a very public and childish row. This information had baffled Lily, to say the least, and she had been forced to quell an impatient urge to track down Melody and Pilar and demand to hear what had happened straight from their mouths. As it was, she was hardly convinced that she was getting the real story. Snogging Sirius Black behind a tapestry just didn't sound like something Pilar would do. The porridge however, was vintage Melody, circa 1972 (an incident that had entertained the entire Great Hall at the expense of Maggie Bagnold's cashmere cardigan). But heavens knew that Melody hadn't assaulted anyone with food in years.

This left Lily with a slight dilemma. She knew where she could find Melody, but she wouldn't be able to talk to her until after the match. Pilar might be trickier, but Lily could hardly miss the game to go looking. Her boyfriend and two of her dearest friends were playing. So, Lily resolved to sort this out after the match. The drama would still be waiting if it were anything serious—and she refused to believe it was until she had spoken with her friends.

Unfortunately, everyone around her seemed to think she was an authority on the matter and kept asking her for details. Just when she turned away one nosy gossip, two more would appear and Lily was growing short tempered. She had mistakenly snapped at a wide-eyed first year that had only been asking where the stadium loos were.

She had somehow made it up the rickety stairs that led to the Gryffindor top box, doing her best not to look down as she went. In her left hand she clutched a rather garish red and gold banner Sirius and Peter had given her the night before, no doubt as a joke. The words "Potter's Bird" were written on it in large, sparkly letters. After examining it thoroughly to be sure it wasn't jinxed or enchanted in some dangerous way, she concluded that the only thing embarrassing about the banner was that it was hideous, and decided to wave it anyway.

Quidditch had never held much for interest Lily. In her early years at Hogwarts, she had often skipped games entirely in favor of the quiet castle or a stroll around the Black Lake with Severus. Then Melody had made the team in her third year, and Lily hadn't missed a match since—however much she might have liked to on occasion. Though she was more excited about the sport now than she'd ever been, something she strongly suspected to be a product of her relationship with James, she still didn't much go in for the extreme competitiveness and rivalry it tended to engender between Houses. A yellow Hufflepuff rosette pinned to her robes in support of Hestia was proof of that.

Lily had settled in a seat near Daphne and Mary, and as far away as possible from Davy, just as the players were walking onto the field. She waved down at James, but he didn't look up toward the stands at all.

McNamara carried the trunk with the balls out onto the pitch and called for the captains to shake hands. James stepped forward and clasped Brodie MacMillan's hand briefly before swinging his leg over his broom.

Something was off. He was so far away that she couldn't see his face or expression, but something in the way he was moving told her he was not in the same mood as when he'd left her that morning.

McNamara blew his whistle and the players kicked off from the ground, rising up so that they were near her eye level.

"And they're off," the commentator announced. "Hufflepuff in possession. Madley makes a pass to Cuffe, but Vane intercepts it. Vane dodges a Bludger hit by McKinnon, and throws a pass to Potter. Potter weaves through the Hufflepuff defense, but is buzzed by Stebbins. Potter drops the Quaffle, and it's picked up by Cuffe, but he drops it as well. McGonagall scoops it up neatly and makes a run at the Hufflepuff goal posts. Bungs pulls himself out of his stupor and the Hufflepuff Chasers are charging McGonagall. She throws a risky reverse pass over her shoulder to Potter, who makes a throw at the goal posts. Bungs was expecting the Quaffle to come from the other direction, and…he doesn't make it in time. Gryffindor scores!"

Cheers went up all around Lily, and her voice was among them. She waved her banner, her smile insuppressible as her boyfriend scored the first goal of the match.

She felt Mary lean in toward her and heard her say, "You have no idea how weird this is."

"What?" Lily asked, her eyes still on the darting players in red and yellow robes.

"You," she laughed, "paying full attention to a game. Usually you bring a book or something to do while you watch. Today you actually look like a real fan."

Lily grinned and glanced at her friend. "The strange things we find ourselves doing when we're mad about a bloke."

Mary nodded. "Isn't that the truth." Her eyes were following James. "He's very pretty when he flies, isn't he?" she asked Lily.

Lily's gaze automatically gravitated back to James. All the players were quite good flyers—you couldn't make a House team without such a fundamental skill, but James was in a class all his own. No one flew like him. It was fluid, as though his broom were an extension of his body and not a scrap of wood. "Yes," she whispered back. "Very, very pretty."

Was that permissible? Calling her boyfriend pretty? She tried to picture James' face if he heard what she'd just said, and smiled again.

"Where's Pilar?" Daphne asked from across Mary.

Startled, Lily looked around. Strange, but with everyone asking her questions about what had happened between Pilar and Melody this morning, it hadn't occurred to her that she hadn't seen her soft-spoken friend in the stands. Pilar quite enjoyed Quidditch and rarely if ever missed a game. Lily grimaced. Merlin, just how badly had James addled her brain?

Her eyes scanned the Gryffindor stands, searching for Pilar's thick black hair. She saw Peter and Remus standing atop the highest row of benches, leaning back against the safety railing in casual way that was nothing if not inadvisable. The latter was bundled up in a heavy cloak and his red and gold scarf as though he were very cold. She noted that he looked pale and drawn, and wondered if he should be in the Hospital Wing. His mysterious cyclical illness was clearly on the downward turn. Peter caught her staring and waved at her, beaming. She waved back, and then continued her search for Pilar.

It only took a few minutes, however, to deduce that she was nowhere in the stands. Lily felt a nagging sense of guilt at this. She felt like a bad friend, sitting here watching a Quidditch game, instead of seeking out Pilar to be sure she was all right.

"She's not here," Lily said to Daphne stupidly.

"Who cares?" said Mary. "You're missing a hell of a spectacle out there," she accused, drawing Lily's attention back to the match.

"Why? What's happened?"

Mary had an expression of shock and mild horror on her face. "It's turned…dirty."

"Dirty?" Lily asked alarmed, realizing she had vaguely registered a few cries outrage from the crowd when she had been preoccupied searching for Pilar. "Against Hufflepuff?"

Mary nodded. "Only it's just the Gryffindors playing mean."

Lily's eyes widened. She remembered a conversation she'd had with James about a week ago when he had come back from practice bleeding. Apparently, Robbins had rammed him into a goal post. James had been _proud_ when he told her this, saying that Robbins' technique would come in handy during a match against Slytherin. Lily had been slightly aghast, not the least for which that his shoulder had been bleeding at the time. This had led to a long discussion about dirty Quidditch tactics. James had explained that fouls were simply plays with penalties, and that when used sparingly they were useful tools. They were a way to get into your opponent's head, catch him off guard, a way to turn a bad situation to your advantage.

But he had also talked about proportion, the tone of a game. When Gryffindor played Slytherin, there were so many dirty plays in the works on both sides that half the time, the fouls weren't even called. Gryffindor and Slytherin simply played rough with each other, and everyone took that for granted—the players, the crowd, and the referee. On the other hand, one could expect to always to have his fouls called if he were playing Hufflepuff, because Hufflepuff tended to play clean with pretty much everyone. Fair play was one of their House virtues after all. What would be note-perfect tactics against Slytherin, was death by penalty shots against Hufflepuff. Lily couldn't understand why James would be going against his own advice now.

"Xavier has fouled MacMillan, James fouled Patricia, and Mel…Mel's leading the charge. She's fouled Bungs twice and she rammed Cuffe pretty hard just a second ago, but McNamara missed that one." Mary was shaking her head. "What are they thinking?"

One glance at the scoreboard showed that Sirius hadn't fared well against all these penalty shots. The score stood Gryffindor: 50 and Hufflepuff: 30. It was only a few minutes into the match.

The commentator's voice was an almost constant buzzing. "Gryffindor back in possession. Vane hands the Quaffle off to Potter. MacMillan and McKinnon both hit Bludgers at him…and that, right there, was a gorgeous display of the Sloth Grip Roll by Potter. Potter passes the Quaffle back to Vane. She takes a shot, and Bungs fumbles the save. Tricky spin on that throw. Many of you might remember that Piper Vane was last season's top scorer."

Lily watched as Hufflepuff took possession and scored their first non-penalty goal of the game. A few minutes passed in relative normalcy, where the game play was clean, typical. Still, Lily thought she recognized a volatile sort of energy out there. She might have wondered if it was all in her head, if she had taken Mary's words and blown them out of proportion, but the peace didn't last.

"Foul!" cried the commentator. "McGonagall blags Madley. And McNamara is awarding a penalty shot. This is Patricia Madley's second penalty shot of the game. Will she put it away as neatly as she did her first? Uhhh…no. Black just managed to save it."

Sirius had almost fallen off his broom to carry out the save, Lily noted with chagrin. And when James was hit by a Bludger in the back a few minutes later, it suddenly seemed like Quidditch was a ludicrously dangerous game. James shrugged it off as if it were nothing, but Lily's knuckles were clutched white around her ugly banner. _How big would that bruise be?_ she agonized silently.

She knew she was being a ninny about the whole thing. Quidditch was a violent sport even in its most docile form, and she had never been terribly bothered before when Melody had received her minor scrapes. But…she didn't want her boyfriend banged and beaten up.

And the match was just getting meaner. Hufflepuff had stopped taking the rough treatment lying down, and the crowd was fast turning on Gryffindor. It was becoming rather clear that the Gryffindor team was in a mood, and they had torn up the pitch one great, collective tantrum. Xavier was hitting Bludgers all over the place, sometimes it even seemed as though he were _trying_ to hit members of his own team. Black's Keeping was growing more and more erratic. Lily could see him swearing himself blue, even if she couldn't hear it, and the Chasers were a three-pronged terror.

Lily had just covered her eyes, seeing James charge at Stebbins, when a commotion went up around the stands.

"Jones has the Snitch!" the commentator shouted. He sounded almost as relieved as Lily felt. "Jones has the Snitch! Hufflepuff wins! 240 to 210!"

Cheers were ringing around the stands, everywhere except from the Gryffindor section. Lily sighed and gathered up her banner, folding it and placing it in the pocket of her robes. She slung her bag full of books onto her shoulder and rose, ready to head down. Her attention was drawn back to the pitch, however, when a collective gasp went through the crowd.

Lily looked up just in time to see Melody's unconscious body falling to the ground.

* * *

"What the fuck is the matter with you!" James bellowed. Despite the phraseology, it was not a question. He didn't actually care what Latchford had been thinking, though he was perversely pleased to see the much larger boy cowering slightly. James couldn't remember ever having been so angry.

"I didn't mean to—" Latchford attempted to explain.

"No, I don't imagine that you meant to. You were aiming for Sirius, who just happened to dodge. Unfortunately, Melody was not so aware of her surroundings," James snarled. "The fact that you didn't mean to doesn't make much difference. You were still attacking one of your teammates."

Latchford screwed up his face defiantly. "He broke my nose!"

"He didn't do it on the pitch!" James shouted back.

"The whistle had blown," he argued. "The match was over."

"That just makes it worse!"

"Like you can throw stones, Potter. You were blatching, and blagging, and blurting all over the place!"

James growled. "I didn't attack any of my own teammates—even though I might've liked to." He raked his fingers through his hair. "You have a choice, Xavier. Either you can go out there and apologize to Melody _and_ to Sirius, or you're off the team."

"That's bollocks!"

"No, it's your options," James retorted. "Make a choice, right now."

For a moment, James was sure that Latchford was going to hit him with the Beater Bat that was still clutched in his hand. Then, unexpectedly, Latchford clunked the bat down on the Captain's desk, and proceeded to rip off his protective pads and team robes. With one last furious look at James, he stalked from the room.

James let go a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, then rubbed his face vigorously. Merlin he needed a shower—some really, really hot water to clear his head and calm his fury. Striding from the room and slamming the door to the Captain's office behind him, James wrenched open his locker.

"You kicked him off?"

James froze his movements, then turned to face Sirius. "Yeah, I kicked him off."

Sirius crossed his arms. "And just where are you going to find a replacement Beater? Don't know if you remember tryouts mate, but I do. The lot of them were rubbish; we were lucky to have Latchford."

"That's my problem, not yours," James snapped. "I'm the Captain."

"And a bang-up job you're doing, too," Sirius sneered. "Really Prongs, great game."

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Robbins, King, and Vane scrambling out of the changing room, and out of the line of fire, but he barely cared. All the anger, the resentment, the bitterness that had been building up in James over the past month toward his best friend was boiling to the surface. How _dare_ Sirius get high and mighty with him now.

"Might have been," James countered, "if you hadn't let all those penalties through. We only lost by thirty points, you know."

"If you lot hadn't sent me so many bloody penalties, maybe I wouldn't have had such a job trying to block them all. Nine, James. Nine sodding penalty shots in a forty-five minute game. What were you thinking?"

"They weren't all mine," James argued childishly.

"No," Sirius conceded, "but three of them were. And I didn't let all of them by, either. I blocked four of them."

"Four of them. Nice average, Padfoot. That's less than half. Meanwhile, I scored eleven goals," James shot back nastily.

"Well then, we'd better have a parade, haven't we? Fabulous James! Thank God you're perfect. I don't know what we'd do without you."

James gritted his teeth. "Don't you even start with me. I've had enough of your shit as it is."

"Oh really? How's that?"

"If you hadn't punched the prat this morning, he wouldn't have hit the Bludger at you in the first place."

"He called Garza a slag."

"Well, she sort of is." James threw his hands in the air. "Your love life is just a wank-go-'round of bollocks. First that bitch Maggie, and now this."

Sirius' eyes turned very, very cold. "You don't want to go there with me."

"I don't?"

Sirius took a step toward James so that he was looking right into his eyes. "You don't know a thing about Maggie or what went on between us."

James didn't shrink back. "I know you let her make a fool of you, over and over again."

"Oh, that's rich. This from the king tit that has fallen in love with the coldest tart in Hogwarts. The whole school is laughing at you."

James' fists clenched. "Don't talk about her that way," he said, voice deadly.

Sirius' brows rose. "Struck a nerve, have I? I just think it's ironic that you're lecturing me about looking like whipped nancy when you're prancing around with Snape's leavings."

Without warning or conscious thought, James drew back his fist, and let it fly at his best friend's jaw.

* * *

Lily was scampering down to the pitch and then on to the changing rooms, hoping to catch James before he went up to the castle. She passed Piper, Eddie, and Ronan on her way, as well as a livid looking Xavier.

She had just come from the Hospital Wing, having followed Melody's stretcher up to the castle. Mel had woken when they were climbing the staircase in the Great Hall, and Lily had kept her talking, alert, and awake, just in case she had a concussion. It took Pomfrey only a second's assessment to determine that she did. They'd set her up in a bed by the door.

"Why are you here?" Melody had asked, slightly loopy and as though she were just noticing Lily for the first time.

Lily had smiled and squeezed her hand. "You got hit with a Bludger, love. You're injured."

"Injured?"

"Yes," Lily had replied, "but Madam Pomfrey says that you're going to be just fine."

"Well…" Melody trailed off, and Lily had wondered if she had forgotten what she had been intending to say, but then she added, "…that's good then. That I'll be just fine."

Lily had nodded, trying to suppress her amusement. "That was a hell of a game, by the way."

A strange noise issued from Melody's throat. "Aunt Minerva is going to kill me."

Lily couldn't argue with that. "Now, Madam Pomfrey wanted me to ask you to recite the twelve uses of dragon's blood."

"Why?" she'd asked.

"Because you have a concussion."

"That's not fair…I haven't studied…."

And that time Melody really had trailed off, but it wasn't because her thoughts had been becoming less lucid. Quite the opposite, Lily was fairly certain. She had seen awareness light into her friend's eyes.

Melody had gripped Lily's hand tight and whispered, "James."

"What about him?"

"You need to go to James," Melody had told her. "You have to fix it."

Lily had become rather anxious then. "Fix what?"

But Melody had been sliding back into incoherence. "He's very angry."

That went without saying. Lily had seen him play, after all. "Why?"

"I told him about the last chances and the forgiving, and he said you were a Knut bin."

"She's not making any sense," Pomfrey said what Lily was thinking. She'd turned to Lily. "Thank you for keeping her awake while I set up, but you need to leave now. She can't have visitors for a few hours."

She had protested, but the Healer was adamant, and in a matter of moments, Lily found herself outside in the hall, the double doors of the Hospital Wing closed to her. After a second's hesitation, Lily had decided to do what Melody had said, just on the off chance that there was something to her ramblings.

Though, she did wonder if she shouldn't seek out Pilar first.

Lily was just approaching the outer doors to the changing rooms when they burst open. Her heart leapt to her throat, but it was Sirius, not James. He strode off angrily in the opposite direction, not even seeing Lily behind him. At this sight, all thoughts of Pilar vanished. She was almost certain she had made the right choice. If Sirius was that upset, James would be, too.

Lily paused for a moment, outside the Gryffindor changing rooms. Technically, she wasn't allowed in, but she had seen the rest of the team elsewhere. If James hadn't already left, he would be in here alone. With that thought, she pulled open the outer doors, and then the inner doors, and entered the changing rooms.

There was a partition, one side for boys, one side for girls, and two separate shower rooms. Lily walked slowly over to the boys' side, and saw an open locker and what looked to be James' gear and broom propped against one of the benches. She could hear a shower running and she sighed. He was here, and he was alone.

She slid her bag from her shoulder and set it on the bench next to his things. Then she unfastened her cloak and robes and draped them on top of the bag. She walked softly around the corner and scanned the shower room for him. He was in a stall on the right. She could see his feet in the gap between the door and the floor.

For a moment, she considered stripping down and joining him. She was here to comfort him, after all. He had just lost an important game, and though she would never understand the significance herself, she did know that it meant a great deal to him, that a large portion of his life was built around this sport. He spent almost as many hours on this pitch as he did in class. He would be distraught, not only by the loss, but by way the match had been played in general. What better way to soothe him, to console him, than to make love to him?

A cursory test of the stall door handle, however, confirmed what she had assumed: it was locked. She could have called out to him, but she decided against that. This cleansing of sorts was a ritual to him. He always took long, hot showers after bad practices before coming up to the castle. Surely it would be the same for bad games, and maybe there was something to it, something she couldn't give.

So she backed out of the shower room silently and resolved to wait for him. She sat down on the bench beside his locker and sighed. Her eyes fell to his gear beside her.

Lily trailed her hand over the polished handle of his broom. She was surprised to find it warm, and the wood fairly vibrated beneath her touch. This was not the glorified firewood upon which she had learned to fly in first year. This was a professional class racing broom; its power was scarcely contained and responded to the slightest command. Truth be told, it scared her somewhat. She had never taken to flying. Whether that was her innate fear of heights or her inner Muggle which was simply adamant that brooms were for sweeping and sweeping only, she wasn't certain. The thought that this broom could go so high and so fast had her in a near fit of fright. Her hand trembled against the wood and she withdrew it.

James wasn't scared of this broom, though. He liked the height, the speed. The fact that he not only enjoyed it but could control it with such careless ease and elegance, attracted her powerfully.

Her fingers caressed one of his elbow pads, and then her eyes ascended to look inside his open locker. She could see a spare change of clothes in an open bag hanging on a hook. He had not packed them carefully, so they were sure to be wrinkled when he put them on. His everyday black shoes rested on the floor of the locker; he hadn't even taken the trouble to untie their laces.

The shelf was too high up for her to be able to see the contents from her seated position, so she rose to her feet. There wasn't much. She supposed he had most of his supplies with him in the shower: shaving razor, hair care potions, soap, and all that. There was a comb—though, Lily thought with a wry smile, she wasn't sure why he bothered. There was also a bottle of his cologne. She picked it up and unscrewed the cap to take a brief whiff. It was intoxicating. Not because she was particularly partial to the scent of cumin and cedar, but because she associated it with him.

As she replaced the bottle, her eyes fell on the last remaining object on James' locker shelf, a tiny drawstring bag. She hesitated. Everything else she had examined had been out in the open for anyone to see, but if she looked inside this bag she would officially be snooping. She pulled back and stared at the blue velvet bag for a long minute before deciding that she wasn't fooling anybody—snooping was in her blood, after all. Glancing behind her to be sure that James was still in the shower, she loosened the drawstrings and reached inside. What she found shocked her.

It was a small decorative comb made of real ivory. The face was engraved with dancing monkeys and exotic flowers, and the inlayed accents were gold. It was hers, one of a pair Lily's grandmother had given her just before she had died. Petunia had been insanely jealous, as the combs had been in the family for over a hundred years and were worth rather a lot. She had tried to barter with Lily for them, but Lily, then only eight, had stated with certainty that she couldn't really see Petunia wearing monkeys in her hair—even if they were made of gold. Though Lily was prone to misplacing things, she had always been particularly careful with these combs, because it seemed very important that she pass them on to her own daughter or granddaughter. Two years ago, however, she'd thought she lost one. She had torn apart the girls dormitory in Gryffindor Tower and the common room looking for it. Finally, she'd concluded that it was gone. She'd been devastated.

And, all along, it had been stashed by James Potter with his Quidditch gear in this smelly changing room.

Her fingers tightened over the comb as she felt prickling anger rising in her. That _bastard_. That _thief_. How could he? What was wrong with him that he would just steal a girl's hair accessories?

Her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. She'd just see how well he liked it. Placing her comb securely in the pocket of the robes she had draped over the bench, she proceeded to rifle through his bag. A moment later, her hand emerged triumphant, James' father's belt clutched in her fingers.

_Fortune favors the bold_. Her lips twisted. _The nimble fingered more like_, she thought bitterly, and she stuffed the belt into her own bag.

As she was replacing the clothes that had fallen to the floor during her rummaging, she heard something metal clatter to the ground. Startled, she looked down and saw a tiny gold ball rolling away speedily on the tile floor. It was the Snitch James sometimes carried with him in his pocket. The Snitch he had stolen from the school. A sardonic smile stretched her lips. At least she wasn't the only victim of his thievery.

Lily chased the ball to the end of the row of lockers, then stooped to pick it up. At her touch, it seemed to wake from a sort of slumber. Its tiny wings unfurled and began to beat like a hummingbird's. She gasped as she felt it strain against her grip. It was stronger than it looked and she was momentarily mesmerized. She sank to sit on the end of the bench.

It was so small and yet so fierce. How did anyone ever catch it? Didn't it ever get tired? Didn't the enchantments begin to wear off after a time? After all, he'd had this Snitch for going on two years now.

Two years….

_Oh God_, she swallowed. He'd had her comb for two whole years. She kept forgetting, so little things like this always felt like a splash of water to her face. In Lily's mind, feelings for James were a recent trend. Yes, she'd always been physically attracted to him in varying degrees, but it was only in the past few months that she'd started caring how he liked his eggs, or that most flowers made him sneeze, or that he subscribed to several educational periodicals, such as _Transfiguration Today_, _Articulate Arithmancy_, _Challenges in Charming_, and _Runic Revelations_, just like one of those old codgers that loitered at the chess tables in the Leaky Cauldron all day. Ridiculous details seemed to take on an unsettling significance—for instance, that James tied his shoes differently than Lily did. The end result looked the same, but the steps he took to get there were entirely different from the rabbit-chasing-its-tail-around-the-tree method her mother had taught her. She didn't know why she'd even noticed, let alone why it struck her as something to puzzle over. It was shoe-tying for Merlin's sake, not philosophy. Still, this madness was _new_.

She had to remind herself that it wasn't new to James. He had fancied her, pined for her, for years, and he was constantly revealing knowledge of little inane details that demonstrated exactly how aware of her he had been during that time. He knew without having to be told that she didn't care for marmalade, that she only used eagle feather quills, and even that she liked to sleep with the window open—though she wasn't sure she wanted to know how he knew that last one.

She thought of the drawstring bag in his locker, and was struck unexpectedly with wondering what the comb had meant to him. He kept it in a velvet bag lined with silk, and he had stored in his Quidditch locker. Why? Did he take it out before games? Rub it for luck? Did he think of it as a lady's favor given to a knight to bring him courage in battle? If so, he had a laughably distorted comprehension of the concept. It wasn't exactly knightly behavior to _steal _the favor without the lady's knowledge and then keep it for years without returning it to her.

This comb was irrefutable proof that fancies were not wholly the pure, sweet naivety and affection she might've assumed. His feelings had brought out something dishonest and…_creepy_ in him, and she understood with startling clarity that this would not have been the only time. He had, no doubt, watched her in daily life when she hadn't wanted to be watched. He had probably subjected her to acts in his fantasies that would alarm and repulse her.

Even if he was more or less over his lovesick infatuation now, as he certainly seemed to be, he had felt that way for years, and it showed. Though his behavior was inescapably disturbing on some levels, for the first time it also seemed terribly lonely and sad. To want someone so completely who didn't want you back. To love someone who didn't love you.

And then the horrible thought occurred to her: that maybe the reason she was so sympathetic all of the sudden was that she finally understood what that meant.

She didn't…she couldn't…_love him_?

…Could she?

If she did, it would certainly explain why his pendulum swinging from hot to cold and back again distressed her so much, why his periodic emotional aloofness made her fret, and why little things like a kiss to her cheek as he left the breakfast table each morning made her glow inside for hours.

Oh God, she couldn't be that big of a fool—she just couldn't. Falling in love with James Potter at this stage felt about as safe as…as climbing on that blasted racing broom.

All at once, Lily felt ill.

The next sound that reached her ears did not help, either. The running water in the shower room stopped, and she heard the stall door open. She stiffened, a thrill of panic pulsing through her. She couldn't see him—not yet. She wasn't ready. She needed time to sort this through, figure out her feelings—because really, these thoughts she was having were preposterous. She did not love James…but somehow, she was fairly certain that seeing him in the flesh just now would do little to convince herself of that.

Not to mention that she was still holding his struggling Snitch, which was proof that she had snooped through his things and…oh _no_. His belt—she had stolen his belt. What could have possessed her to do something so daft?

She could have jumped to her feet and attempted to put his stuff back where it had been before her curiosity had gotten the better of her, but she was frozen, fixed to the bench, and when he rounded to corner she was still sitting there.

Lily gasped, and the Snitch slipped from her fingers and zoomed away.

He was practically naked, wearing only a white towel that was draped low on his narrow hips, but that wasn't what had startled her. Nor was it the peculiarly hard expression that came over his face when he saw her waiting. It was the blood, and the bruises, and the clearly broken nose.

In the space of a heartbeat, she was on her feet and striding toward him.

"Oh my God," she caressed the side of his face gently so as not to cause him discomfort. "What happened?"

There were several purpling bruises on his torso and arms that he might have sustained during the game, but his face…. One of his cheeks was swelling, and his lip was split. His freshly washed visage, still dripping with water, was marred by the copious amounts of blood trickling from his nose.

His hand came up to push hers away and she saw that his knuckles were bleeding as well.

"You've been fighting," she whispered, shocked.

He hesitated, then nodded, not meeting her gaze.

Lily's mind raced, latching onto the way she had seen Black storm from the changing rooms.

Her brows came together. "With Sirius?"

Swallowing, she waited until he nodded again. She left his side briefly to retrieve her wand from the pocket of her robes, but was back in seconds.

"Hold still," she instructed softly though he showed no signs of moving. Lily fixed his nose first. "_Episkey_." Pulling back she asked, "Does that feel all right?"

James did not respond. Was he in shock? Her curiosity was gnawing at her to ask what the boys had fought about, but she sensed that this was not the time. To get a better look at his face, she cast a cleansing spell to remove the blood, then proceeded to use Meliorative Charms on his wounded lip and cheek. When she was finished, she stared at him, concern pulling at her features.

"Stop looking at me like that," he snapped. "I'm fine." He pushed past her and strode to his locker.

Lily followed him, "No you're not." She was quite certain of that. The truth was that he was frightening her a bit. James was usually so good-humored and gregarious; most things just seemed to roll off him. She'd had a brief experience with his temper at the masque, but this was something else entirely. Still, alarmed though she was, she was not about to leave him like this. Every part of her seemed to ache with the need to take away his pain.

She placed a hand on his forearm to stay his movements. When he finally turned to look at her, she very deliberately stepped close to him, between his arms. She leaned into him, placing a light, lingering kiss on his collarbone.

"What can I do?" she asked, wrapping her arms around him.

He sighed impatiently. "You can…"

For a moment, she was sure he was going to finished the sentence with "go the fuck away," but then he seemed to change his mind. She found herself pushed backward and pinned against the closed locker beside his open one. She looked up at him surprised, and he took her lips without preamble. His arm snaked around to lift her against him forcefully.

Lily gave a startled squeak when she felt that he was already hard. Merlin, what had he been thinking of in the shower?

Her arms tightened around him and she threw herself into the kiss. She had been anticipating a shag from the moment she set a course for the locker room. Sex was, perhaps, the best way she knew how to make James feel better. She had been expecting something tender and loving, slow and sensuous, as that was what James had been preferring over the past few days. But this kiss, though passionate, was hard—punishing even. The hands that gripped her waist were vice-like, and there was a kind of combustible tautness in his muscles and the air between their two bodies. It might have repulsed her, but to her dismay, she found her body responding. Enthusiastically.

It was strangely exciting to have so much of his power focused on her, and he had never held her like this before. Certainly he had shagged her hard and fast, but this was not the same. She knew he'd never physically harm her, still, just now his mood was dangerous. It was clear that whatever he had been feeling down on the pitch today remained in full force. His aggression had not been sated by a dirty game or fisticuffs with his best mate.

Lily whimpered sweetly into his mouth when she felt his hands cup and stroke her breasts. He squeezed her nipples through the layers of her clothing, then his hands moved down to begin raising her skirt. Her fingers trailed over his bare back, still dripping rivulets of water. She traced the hollows of his beautifully sculpted, flexed muscles. Gradually, her hands moved lower, and she encountered the towel. The fuzzy material was an unwelcome barrier, so she dispensed with it.

He caught her wrists as she pushed the towel down and pinned them above her head. She gasped into his mouth when she felt his cock spring free against her bare thighs. It bobbed a bit, branding her sensitive skin with its heat. The tip grazed the lacy front of her knickers, and she moaned, straining her hips toward his. She needed to feel more of him, and her clit was dying to be touched.

James did not oblige her. He pulled back and released her wrists, his callused hands immediately moving to pull her powder blue panties down her legs. She stepped out of them eagerly, and reached for him. He indulged her in a perfunctory kiss, then steered her so that she facing away from him. The pressure of his hand on her lower back told her that he wanted her to bend over. She leaned forward, grasping the end of the bench tightly, knowing what was to come.

Air whooshed over her most private regions when he flipped her skirt up out of the way, exposing her completely. She trembled and bit back a whimper when she felt his touch kneading the back of her thighs and then her bum.

One of her hands left the bench, and reached back to touch herself. She simply could not wait a second more, but James pried her touch away and took up the task himself. He dipped his fingers inside her to wet them, then began fondling her swollen nub with sure, circular strokes. His other hand slipped fingers into her opening, and began to pump them in and out of her.

Lily groaned and had just settled into a good fingering, when the fingers were abruptly replaced by his cock. She cried out as he filled her, her arms trembling ecstatically and struggling to hold her up. As he worked his way in, she rocked her haunches back at him, wanting him as deep as possible. She heard him grunt appreciatively. When he had fully sheathed himself inside her, he held still for an excruciating minute, as always. And, as always, Lily almost came even though neither of them were moving. It drove her mad to know that the act of entering her excited him so much that he had to take a moment to compose himself, even after weeks of shagging. She could hear his ragged, uneven breaths, and she had to bite her lip to keep from begging him to move.

Then, the torture ended, and he began to thrust slow, but deep. The fingers pressed against her clit began to move again and she let loose a sigh of relief that became a moan. His other hand rested solidly on her hip, and she felt him lean forward against her to trail love-bites along her nape.

"James," she whimpered. "Oh, God—_harder_."

He rumbled in response and sped up his movements, his hips slamming into her cheeks fast and hard. Once again she felt his rage in the air. There was something undeniably primal and proprietary in his thrusts—and yet, again, she found herself responding to it, not with distaste, but with cries of bliss and encouragement. It was a basic reaction, a primitive one. A submission to his dominance and claim. His strokes were rough, barbarous.

Lily's arms gave out, no longer able to support any weight, and she rested her face against her hands. This changed the angle of penetration drastically, and she heard herself cry out brokenly. There was no way she'd last much longer—not with James so deep, not with his fingers fondling her.

It seemed that James was in a similar place. She could tell from the fingers digging into her thigh and the low pitch of his groans that he was close. Very close. She decided to help him along, and clamped her inner walls down on him spasmodically.

He bellowed, and she felt him begin to spurt inside her. It took her over the edge immediately. Her scream joined his as her release hit her so hard that if James hadn't been clutching her waist, her legs would have collapsed.

The changing room seemed unnaturally silent in the aftermath. She felt James' forehead resting on the middle of her jumper-clad back as their breathing returned to normal. In increments, his grip on her loosened until it fell away. He stepped back, and she moaned as his cock slipped out of her. Before her knees could give, she maneuvered herself to sit on the bench, knocking his broom and her book bag to the floor.

She looked up at him, a contented smile ready on her lips. When she met his eyes, however, the feeling faded. He looked almost sick. Pale.

"James…?" she began, but he interrupted her.

"I need another shower," he said.

That was certainly not what she had expected. Before she could gather her wits, he had pushed past her and back into the shower room, leaving his wet towel in a pile on the floor in front of her.

It hit her rather abruptly that she was fully clothed, save for her knickers, which were lying next to James' towel. She caught a flash of red in her peripheral vision, and her eyes grew wide when she looked down at herself.

Blood was smeared over her thighs and mingled with her fluids and James' in her pubic hair. At first, she thought she may have started her monthly, which would have explained James' declaration that he needed a second shower perfectly. Then she remembered that she'd had it two weeks ago. She searched frantically for a wound, racked her brain for a moment of pain during the encounter, before realizing that it had come from James' bleeding knuckles. Dear God, he had bled all over her.

Unexpectedly, she felt tears pricking her eyes. Mere seconds ago, she had been basking in one of the most intense and gratifying orgasms of her life. Now an acute sense of shame was stealing over her.

James had never been _that_ rough with her before, had never allowed himself to come without making sure that she was taken care of first. She recalled the odd coldness in his eyes when he looked at her, the way he had batted away her touch, and a disquieting thought presented itself. Was it possible that _she_ was the object of his anger?

Merlin, he had shagged her from behind several times before, but she had a distinct paranoia that this time he had chosen the position because he hadn't wanted to look at her face while he fucked her.

She swallowed the aching lump in her throat and lowered her skirt to cover herself. What had seemed kinky and exciting a few minutes ago now seemed demeaning. Suddenly she felt dirty, and thought that she too needed a shower.


	13. Interlude in the Library

**13**

**Interlude in the Library**

Lily worked in uncomfortable silence in dungeon three.

Fridays this term her entire morning was free, and after lunch she had only Care of Magical Creatures. Consequently, it was the day she spent the most time in the library researching and studying. It was also the day McGonagall and Dumbledore tended to pile on extra Head Girl duties. Most weeks, Friday found her leading study groups, coordinating disciplinary schedules with Filch, or patrolling the grounds on the watch for students too interested in the Forbidden Forest, Black Lake, or Sprout's vegetable patch.

On this first week of December, however, Lily's schedule was blissfully open. She thought it would be a good time to catch up on her project for her Potions Master license. Unfortunately, Severus had made similar plans.

He sat huddled over several rolls of parchment and open books across the room from her. His project was spread out over a number of brewing tables. The table where he was currently ensconced was covered with his research, and his cauldrons and ingredients were littered across the other four tables.

Lily, who was set up similarly, had to restrain herself from asking what his project was. She still did not know what subject he had chosen, and her intellectual curiosity had been piqued. One of his cauldrons was giving off an intriguing crimson aura and another kept spewing acrid green bubbles into the air.

Neither of them had said a word to the other all morning.

Lily wished, rather desperately, that Severus were anywhere but here in this dungeon with her. His presence was distracting, and she longed to get so swept up in her work that she would be able to forget for a time that a portion of her life was falling apart.

She adjusted her dragonhide gloves and began mincing her black hellebore. What did one do when her two closest friends were no longer friends?

Two weeks ago, at the Quidditch game, Lily had told herself that there must have been a mistake. Pilar would never do what everyone was saying that she'd done; but, apparently, Pilar would, and Pilar had.

"Why?" Lily had demanded once she'd recovered from her shock. "Did you really want Black that badly?"

Pilar had looked up at Lily from where she sat at a table in the corner of the Gryffindor common room, her features somewhat stiff. "Black? No, I don't suppose it had much to do with him at all."

"I don't understand."

Pilar had sighed. "Things have been…complicated between Melody and I for…for a long while now. We tried to shield you from it, but I don't know how you could have not noticed."

"You've been irritated with each other." Lily had brushed that aside. "You just need a little break, and then you'll be fine."

But Pilar had shaken her head. "Melody and I argued the week before, and I stewed about it. I sought out Sirius the morning of the match with complete knowledge of what I was doing and when I was doing it." She'd closed her book and looked Lily full in the face. "Do you understand, Lily? What I did was done maliciously. I wanted to hurt her."

"Are you saying that you're not interested in Black? Not really? You're not with him?" Lily had sputtered, near incredulous.

"Heavens no," Pilar had declared, shivering as though the very idea was repugnant to her.

Lily had struggled to comprehend. "I thought you fancied him."

"I did, but after…" she had trailed off. "Lily, I am _appalled_ by what I have done. I…had no idea that there was something so ugly and spiteful in me. I know it's not Sirius' fault, that what's going on between Melody and I has nothing to do with him, but I can't even look at him without feeling sick."

Lily had patted her hand. "You've done a bad thing, Pilar. One bad thing. That's it, and that's all it means. You're not a bad person, and you're not a bad friend," she had reassured with utter sincerity. "Melody will forgive you."

"Yes, it's likely she might," Pilar had conceded. "But we've drifted, Lily. You have been the only thing holding us together for a while now, and maybe it would be better if we just made a clean break."

Lily made a conscious effort not to press the point in the ensuing weeks, but it had been difficult. Certainly Lily had noticed that her friends stepped on each other's toes a bit more than usual lately, that they bickered and prodded one another more frequently. Melody and Pilar had forever been opposites in many respects, and as they had grown through the years, their differences had only become more defined. Still, they were friends, and they had always been friends.

When Ambassador Garza had accepted a post in Britain and uprooted his family from their lavish beach-side estate in Málaga to a drafty old manor in Inverness-shire, Melody had been Pilar's first friend, in fact. The girls had been inseparable when Lily had met them on her first night at Hogwarts: one insuppressibly bold and forthright, the other soft-spoken and dignified. This was a blip, Lily had told herself. Melody and Pilar had been attached at the hip since they were seven years old. One silly little snog with Sirius Black would not break them.

Yet it had been two weeks, and still there was no change in the state between them. Pilar had cloistered herself in the dark corners of the library and common room, going to bed early, rising early, and working through her lessons in silence. Lily would have thought she was wallowing in her guilt, except that there was an odd peacefulness about her. Melody seemed to be in a similar place. She was more boisterous than ever, throwing herself into her Quidditch practices and even going around with Jack Stebbins. Lily had felt out the subject of Pilar once or twice, and surprisingly, Melody did not seem to be holding a grudge, but she didn't want to make up either. Perhaps Lily should have taken Pilar's words at face value the first time. Maybe her friends were just happier not being friends anymore.

Lily certainly appreciated the amount of time she did not have to spend arbitrating, but she missed studying together, gossiping, blasting the volume on the wireless and singing along. She missed the way Melody would interrupt Pilar's stories and readings with asides, and she missed the faces Pilar would make when Melody told crude jokes. She still had them both, but it felt infinitely lonelier to only have them one at a time. Lily didn't want to give up, and yet, she couldn't very well _force_ them to be friends again.

In stark contrast to this disconcertingly amenable parting of ways stood the dissolution of James and Sirius' friendship. They had very nearly come to blows more than once since their fight in the changing rooms, and they could scarcely stand to be in the same room together. Lily couldn't help but feel a little grateful for the reasonableness of her own friends when James and Sirius expected their companions to choose sides. This had not worked out well for Sirius.

Things had already been strained between Black and Remus; and Peter, after a day or two of trying to please everyone, had also joined James. This left Sirius…alone. True, he was popular enough that he didn't lack for company, but there was a marked difference between devotees and friends. Sirius, like Melody, had only grown more animated since his break with his oldest mate, but unlike Melody, it was an unequivocally negative change. He had been nothing short of intolerable and had managed to lose almost 200 points for Gryffindor over the past two weeks all by himself. Though Lily had never liked Black, she found herself feeling sorry for him, however much like a wanker he was behaving.

Admittedly, James was not much better. He was snapping at everybody, his marks were slipping, and he had grown neglectful of his Head Boy duties. Whenever he and Sirius were in the same vicinity, his jaw took on a set tightness. Lily still didn't know what they had fought about, and after questioning Peter and Remus, both of whom were equally uninformed, she doubted if anyone but the two of them did.

Perhaps all this chaos between those who should have been the truest of friends was the real reason Severus' presence was so uncomfortable today. The two of them working on opposite sides of the room, not talking even to exchange pleasantries, was painful proof that friendships that seemed unassailably strong could crumble, and that people who seemed indispensable to one another could grow so far apart that they no longer fit in each other's lives. Lily fought the ache rising in her chest. How could Melody and Pilar claim they had no desire to repair their bond when James and Sirius so clearly missed each other? When, even now, after the worst of betrayals, she still missed Severus?

"Lily?"

The sound of his voice made her jump.

"Sev?" she responded automatically, then inwardly kicked herself.

He had caught her in a sentimental moment, and without thinking she had used his old nickname. She shook her head as if to clear it. She tried to convince herself that she didn't want to see if he had reacted to her slipup, but found her eyes lifting to meet his anyway. There was a smug grin on his face. Her lips flattened into a line. She didn't know why he was so pleased; he hated all nicknames, even her childhood one for him. She could remember no fewer than six times that he had asked her not to use it at all.

"What do you want?" she asked coldly.

Her change in demeanor seemed to amuse him further. "Are you the one who checked out _Acromantula Envenomation_ from the library?"

Lily looked over at the next table where her research was stacked. "Yes."

"Are you finished with it?"

She sighed. She was, more or less. "What's your project?" The question came out like she had been holding it in too long.

Severus actually gave a brief, involuntary smile. "Well, bezoars are marvelous things, but there are a small percentage of poisons against which they have no neutralizing effect."

Lily removed her gloves and began to extricate the book from under a stack of parchment. "Mystical poisons that induce a hemotoxic reaction," she supplied.

He inclined his head. "Antidotes for those poisons are inconveniently specialized, which means the exact toxin must be identified before it can be counteracted. I just thought it would be worth investigating whether polyvalent antidotes are a possibility."

She stared at him a bit awestruck. He was downplaying his hypothesis and the work that would be involved. The truth was that his project was far more ambitious and complex than hers. She tried not to let her interest be too obvious. Lily looked back at the stack of books beneath her fingers and pulled two others from the pile. She made her way across the room to him.

"These two might be useful as well." She handed him a leather-bound tome upon which the gold lettering had faded almost completely, her pulse racing. It was the closest she'd been to Severus in months. "This one focuses exclusively on magical animals with hemotoxic venoms—not just the Acromantula, but also the Occamy, the Basilisk, the Peruvian Vipertooth…." She stopped when she realized she was babbling. Hurriedly, she shoved the other book at him. "That one isn't about venoms at all. In fact, it's pretty much just about foxglove. But it has a few chapters that really go into detail about the body's reaction to hemotoxins. Which…is why I had it. My project¾"

"I know what your project is," he interrupted, reminding her that he had overheard her conversation with Slughorn.

His black eyes were boring into hers. She relinquished her hold on the third book, the one he had requested initially, and looked away. He was making her uncomfortable—or maybe she was doing that to herself.

Suddenly, she wanted to snatch the book back just so that she could hit him with it. How could he have sold his soul for power? That was the role of the cartoonishly cold and greedy villain. No matter how she worked to harden her heart, she couldn't manage to reconcile that picture with the boy who had been her companion in her childhood adventures, her first hero. Why did friends have to grow up, grow apart, and leave each other behind? Why couldn't things stay the way they were forever?

It was a foolish wish and a rash one. She knew she didn't _actually_ want everything to remain the same forever. Things had happened to her over the past two or three years, things she would not trade for staying fourteen forever.

Chief among them, she had fallen in love with James Potter. And what a strange and terrible experience that was. She knew that she had loved Severus once upon a time, but that love was so dwarfed by the all-consuming spate that was her feelings for James that she couldn't help but wonder if her love for her former best friend had been less romantic than she may have imagined. Every experience with James was so much more vivid and powerful than what had come before, like the difference between the heavily watered-down wine she had been given on special occasions as a child and the undiluted fare she consumed now.

In the shadow of her feelings for James, however, her love for Severus became more tangible, not less. Because she understood it now, she knew the boundaries of it, the definition of it. She found herself mourning her lost friendship and what might have been more in the past two weeks since her epiphany regarding James than she had since fifth year. Neither her love for James, nor her hatred for the Mark on Severus' arm could assuage the twinge she felt knowing that she would never again while away an afternoon lying in the tall grass of the field near her house beside her dearest friend.

When Severus thanked her for the books, she nodded and made her way back to her own work.

Lily couldn't deny that this resurgence of regret was the primary reason she was being so patient with James. He had been acting like a prat since his break with Sirius, but she knew his pain well. Losing your best friend, no matter the circumstances, felt like part of your soul withering up.

There was an exception to James' antisocial behavior, however. While he had no scruples at taking out his frustrations on Remus and Peter, he never so much as took a sharp a tone with Lily. As a matter of fact, since the incident in the changing room, he had practically walked on eggshells with her. Every day he had a bouquet of paper flowers delivered to her with the morning mail. She did not know if he folded them himself or if he simply knew a spell, but every day it was a different flower folded out of a different color of paper, and it was always accompanied by a small note. James wasn't much of a wordsmith, so he usually just said silly things like, "Your ankles are sexy," or "Your slipshod penmanship is adorable." It was a close enough parallel to his past behavior that his intent was unmistakable, even if he hadn't said the words: he was apologizing. He felt bad about how brutishly he had treated her after the game. He had done everything he could in the days that followed to make it up to her, to leave no doubt as to his remorse.

Lily, for her part, wished he'd just knock it off. His stupid paper flowers, his poncy notes, the ever-present gentle quality in his voice, the utter lack of teasing, the always tender sex, all served as constant reminders that things were not okay between them. He seemed to think that he had committed some abominable sin and he had to atone for it. Lily tried to show in every way she could think of that she'd rather just move on, including reassuring him point blank.

In truth, she had gotten over it shortly after it had happened. She had picked up her sodden blue knickers from the floor and slipped away from the changing room. She had spent the entire trip up to the Head dormitories fighting her tears—refusing to let them fall where she might be seen. It wasn't until she was climbing into the tub that she realized she had gone to James' private loo instead of her own out of habit. Briefly, she had considered dressing again and retreating to her rooms, but she couldn't bear the thought of having his blood on her another minute. As soon as the spray of the water hit her face, she'd felt the tears she'd been suppressing rip free. Her sobs had rung loudly in the tiny room, and she remembered thinking to herself that she was grateful James was still down at the pitch and couldn't hear her.

After a few minutes, the tears, so earnest at first, had abruptly subsided. She'd stood for a moment, just letting the hot water run over her body, yet she'd felt strangely cold and shivered. Wanting to vacate the premises as quickly as possible, she had shut off the water and dried herself expeditiously. She'd tossed her clothes down the laundry chute rather than put them back on, instead she'd borrowed James' bathrobe. Her intention had been to sneak it back after she popped by her room for a fresh outfit.

But when she'd opened the door she found James, sitting at the foot of his bed in the wrinkled clothes he had stuffed into that bag in his locker, waiting for her. His hair had still been damp, but had shown signs of drying even more awkwardly than usual. One look at his face told her that he had followed after her almost immediately and that he had indeed heard her crying. His eyes had been dry but bloodshot and full of apology. He had shot to his feet when she opened the door, but then stopped, his uncertainty written on his face.

Lily had hesitated, and then blurted exactly what she was feeling. "That hurt, you sod."

"I hurt you?" he had asked in a strained voice. He'd stepped forward, parted the robe, and began examining her skin.

She'd slapped his hands away. "Not during, Potter. After."

"Oh," he'd said softly.

She'd blinked back her tears, for all that was worth, then snapped, "Did I do something wrong? Did I _offend_ you in some way?"

James had shaken his head.

"Then, goddamn it, don't treat me like I did." Her fist had come down against his chest, not with the intention to harm, but with enough purpose to make her point. Then she'd stumbled forward, into his arms and pressed her face into his shoulder.

His arms had come up around her, and she thought she heard him fighting back tears of his own. "I'm such a prat, love. I'm a prat."

It was that night that she'd figured out two things: first, that yes, she did love James; second, that this was just relationship stuff. Sometimes couples brought things into the bedroom (figuratively in this case) that they should not. It didn't mean that James didn't care for her. It just meant that he'd fought with his best friend.

The sex itself in the changing room had been extremely pleasurable—in fact, it might have qualified as her single most intense orgasm. That surprised her as much as anything else. If her relationship with James could be equated to a boat, she was the one who hogged the rudder. She liked to be the one in control, or at least feel as though she was the one in control. Steering the boat at all times seemed the best way to protect herself from being hurt, and one of the things she loved about her boyfriend was that he was laidback and secure enough that he didn't seem to mind her grabby captaincy. The rough shag in the changing rooms was the first time Lily had relinquished control, the first time James had ever been assertively dominant. She had been amazed to discover that it wasn't scary or even unpleasant. On the contrary, there was a part of her that seemed to enjoy it very much. While the sex had been a bit more detached than she preferred, the only thing that had truly bothered her was the thought that his fury may have been directed at her; that he may have been using lovemaking as an outlet to express anger toward her. And that was ludicrous, really. She'd felt silly after she'd considered the situation rationally. After all, why would James be angry with her? She hadn't _done anything_.

And so, Lily had decided not to let the rough shag bother her, because she believed it was not representative of his feelings or their relationship as a whole, because she knew he was sorry, because she believed her bond with James was sturdy enough to hold despite it. Since that night, however, James' behavior had served to unnerve her. Did he really believe that what they had built was so fragile? _Was_ it so fragile?

Just the thought of that possibility was enough to cause a physical ache in her chest. It wouldn't be fair—to have finally surrendered herself to her feelings for James, only to be crushed. She couldn't let that happen. Lily would not have her heart broken again, and certainly not over something so silly. She had to _fix_ this.

Setting aside her hellebore, Lily looked at her watch and then began to pack up her things. James had a free period right now. She was determined to find him and confront this awkwardness head-on. Her potions would wait.

"Leaving already?" Severus inquired with forced lightness, his entire mood shifting when he saw that she was cutting the day short.

She didn't even pause in her clean up, stuffing books into her overflowing bag. "Yes, there's somewhere I need to be."

When she dropped some of her spare phials into the pocket of her robes she heard them clink against something that was already in there. Puzzled, she reached in to investigate. It was her comb, the one that she had taken from James' locker.

Lily chewed her lip as her mind worked quickly. Perhaps she knew just how to approach James.

* * *

James had been trying to focus on _Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration_ for a good hour, but he couldn't seem to lose himself in it as planned. This made him frustrated for more reasons than one. He had hoped that N.E.W.T. revision for his favorite subject would offer a temporary escape from his turbulent emotions, and the fact that it had not made him want to fling the book away. His wandering mind also meant that he was not absorbing what he was reading and he was loathe to turn the page knowing that he couldn't honestly say what was on it.

Sighing with disgust, he slammed the book shut and tossed it onto a nearby tea table where the rest of his schoolwork was piled. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses to clear his vision and ran his fingers through his hair. He was sprawled out on a sofa adjacent to the fireplace in the common room of the Head dormitories and had been since his free period had begun. He stared listlessly at the ceiling, wondering if he should just head up the stairs to his room and take a nap.

If he were honest, though, he didn't want sleep. He wanted a refuge, somewhere he could go that he could be sure not to run into Sirius or Lily. But the whole of Hogwarts was tainted. All the secret Marauder haunts held the chance of Sirius, and everywhere else held the promise of Lily. Of the two, Lily was preferable—which was why he was holed up in the Head dormitories and not the Shrieking Shack—but only just. Months ago, when he and Lily had first started dating, he hadn't considered that there might be a downside to her spending so much time in his rooms. Somewhere along the line, his space had become _their _space, and now he had nowhere to go to have a break from her. Not without hurting her feelings anyway.

He just wished he didn't feel so bloody guilty. He felt guilty that he had punched Sirius, and that he had yet to make amends with his best mate. He felt guilty for the abysmal way he had treated Lily after the game, for making her cry. But mostly, he felt guilty that he was still angry with both of them. Sure Sirius had deserved the punch, but for fuck's sake, why were they still pissing on each other? They were blokes, not second-year girls. Shouldn't they have called each other berks, hugged, and made up by now?

The situation with Lily made him feel much worse—mostly because his rage was completely unjustified and childish, but still wouldn't go away. It was like an unkillable fungus that just kept eating at him no matter how he tried to rid himself of it. He knew he was being ridiculous, and he knew it was all on him. After all, she had been relatively open with him about this type of stuff. If he had asked her, she would have told him. She wasn't a deceitful person—she hadn't _misled_ him in any way. This was not her fault. Yet he couldn't help that every time he thought of Lily and Snape doing…what he now knew they had done, he felt positively nauseated.

Puzzling through his mire of conflicting feelings, James was able to hold on to one thing: he loved her—that much was definite, not even called into question. If his heart had hardened even the least bit toward her, he would not have felt the way he had when listening to her cry in his shower. He had thought he felt wretched after the masque, but a few silent tears he couldn't even be sure of did not begin to compare. In that moment, as he had collapsed on his bed at the echo of her sobs, he had known with a consuming kind of certainty that Lily crying was the worst sound in the world. That it was a sound he never, ever wanted to hear again.

Of course, this meant not lashing out at her like a goddamned prat. He had to keep himself in line, rein himself in, for both their sakes. He had only lost his temper with Lily twice, but it was becoming clear to him that where she was concerned, his anger was particularly ugly.

This was probably the true reason he had made up with Lily and not with Sirius. Right now Sirius was taking the brunt of James' resentment toward Lily as well as his own share. Part of James felt lousy about this, but the truth was Sirius could take it. James' friendship with Sirius could take it. This relationship with Lily, on the other hand, was touchy, delicate. James could not afford to fuck it up.

And telling Lily how he really felt about her past would most certainly fuck it up.

The thing was, James was pretty sure that was all on him as well. Some deluded part of himself believed that if he didn't express his anger, it would just quietly disappear. Eventually. But if he said it out loud…well, then it would be a fact. Something he and Lily would have to overcome together, rather than something for James to deal with on his own. Lily shouldn't be made to feel uncomfortable for his daftness.

He winced when heard the portrait hole open and close. This hiding in plain sight business was not overly effective.

"Good, you're here," he heard Lily's voice. "Don't move. I need to pop up to my room for something, but then I want to talk to you."

James had to hold back a groan. Couldn't the bint just leave him alone until he could figure out how to quash his jealousy and revulsion? He ran his fingers through his hair fitfully as he listened her ascending her stairs, considering his options. He could be Oafish Bloke and pretend to be asleep; he could be Swotty Bloke and pretend that he was too busy studying for an exam for whatever she had planned; he could be Dastardly Bloke and slip out through the portrait hole before she returned and later pretend he hadn't heard her; or he could keep right on with his sworn course and be Best Bloody Boyfriend in the World Bloke in the hopes that such would keep their conversation short and trivial.

Realizing that the last option was really his only option, James sat up on the sofa and prepared a smile on his face.

When she came into view, it took him a moment to place what it was about her that seemed to raise warning bells under his very skin. It wasn't until she took a seat beside him that he put together what that was: those beautiful Indian combs that she used to wear held her hair back from her face. Both of them.

Her face was closed and James couldn't read her mood or intention. He swallowed. Something told him that despite all his careful treatment of his girlfriend over the past couple of weeks, he was in trouble.

"I can explain," he spoke reflexively. He hated those words because they implied guilt, and normally his mother was the only person in the world who could make him blurt them.

Lily raised a brow. "Can you?"

James winced. Her voice was colder, sharper than he expected.

James took a deep breath before he spoke, gathering his thoughts. How could he tell this story in a way that would not cast him in a poor light?

Bugger, there really wasn't a way.

"Well, erm...you used to leave books and quills and earrings in the common room all the time, and then you would go around asking people if they had seen whatever you had misplaced. You were so careful with those combs though. If you took them off while you were studying, you would be sure to put them in your pocket or bag and not on the study table. Between that and the way you would preen when someone complimented you on them, I knew they must have been your favorite. Well, and you wore them all the time."

"Preen?" she demanded.

James had to fight a smile despite himself. Then he sobered; his tale was not going somewhere fun, after all. "Well, one night, toward the end of fifth year, Mary came and told you that Sniv…that Snape was loitering outside the common room." James did not specify what else had happened that day. He knew that they both remembered it well. "You had been playing with your hair in an agitated sort of way and one of the combs came loose. You set it on the study table before you went out to speak with him. When you came back in, you were upset, and you gathered up your books so fast that you missed the comb. Your friends followed up after you and they didn't see it either. I sat in the common room almost until midnight, hoping you would come down and get it so that I could…I don't know, apologize, I guess."

James looked down at his quill on the tea table before him, avoiding her glare. "But you stayed up in your dorm all night. So, I took the comb. I knew that the next day you would make the rounds, asking if anyone had seen it. I also knew that you would be less likely to approach me if I was with my mates, so I made sure that I was on my own as much as possible for a couple of days. I figured you probably wouldn't come to me right off, but you didn't come to me at all. You asked every other Gryffindor—even Sirius. But not me. That was when I finally cottoned on."

"Cottoned on?"

He nodded, laughing humorlessly. "I finally understood how much you loathed me. If you couldn't even ask me after the whereabouts of your favorite comb, then I knew you would never go out with me."

James was uncomfortable with this conversation, especially with the way his story was coming out. It was unpracticed, which meant that he was revealing more than he would prefer. Not only that, in his effort to make himself sound less like a stalker or a thief, he had come off like a whinging nit.

"So," her voice cut into the silence, "you decided to keep it instead of returning it. Was that a fit of spite or creepy obsession, would you say?"

Apparently the stalker and thief elements still were quite clear, however.

"Neither."

"Potter, my grandmother gave me these combs—on her deathbed."

He spread his palms. "I never planned to keep it." When her eyes narrowed, he elaborated. "I may have put off returning the comb because I didn't know how to approach you with it, but I never would have left school without giving it back. Even if I had to slip it into your bag when you weren't looking."

"Why'd you keep it in your Quidditch locker?"

James studied her for a moment before deciding to opt for honesty. "It was a private place to stash it, out of the way. I knew that no one would stumble on it there." Anyone would have known where it had come from, as Lily must have worn the combs two or three times a week since she arrived at school. Not even Sirius had known he had the comb, and James had wanted to keep it that way.

He loosened his necktie and lifted it over his head, compulsively unfastening the top few buttons on his shirt so that it felt less like he was backed into a corner. He'd come this far; he might as well finish it. "Also, I rather…liked having it to look at before a game. This might sound foolish, but I always play better when I remind myself that you'll be watching."

She blinked at that and he could tell that he had taken her off guard with that confession. Now was the time to make his move, press his advantage. He turned his body toward hers on the sofa and took her hand in his. "I'm sorry, Lily."

James watched as she melted, and inwardly he sighed with relief. While not comfortable, that exchange had gone better than he could have hoped. In the time since he had originally taken the comb, he'd imagined dozens of scenarios in which he returned it to her. Considering that this one had not involved her jinxing his bollocks into oblivion or beating him senseless with a History of Magic textbook, he'd call himself lucky and leave it at that.

Then she shook her head as though trying to throw off a Confundus Charm. When she looked at him again her eyes were blazing.

Well…shit. It looked as though he'd been a bit cocky.

She yanked her hand out of his grasp. "Damn it, Potter. Don't do that!"

"Don't do what?" The words were out of his mouth before he had considered them, and he immediately regretted his glibness.

She sighed in exasperation. "You get all smooth and…_beguiling_, and I fall for it. It mesmerizes me, leaves me totally incapacitated."

Really, he thought, she was being rather hard on herself. She didn't seem overly incapacitated just now.

He opened his mouth, but she held up her hand.

"No, no more. I'm trying to pick a fight with you here."

That stopped whatever words he had been planning dead in his throat. "Wait—what?"

"I'm picking a fight with you," she repeated. "And it's important."

"Why?"

"Because you're treading so lightly with me that we haven't had an honest conversation since the Hufflepuff match, and I'm sick of it," she said very quickly. James had the impression that telling him this was not part of the original plan, but that she had been dying to blurt it anyway.

"So…you're not actually mad?"

"Of course I am! You took my grandmother's comb, you prat."

"Oh."

Her eyes seemed impossibly big as she leaned forward and spoke earnestly, "But I'm not going to break."

James couldn't pull his gaze from hers. "I hurt you, Lily."

"Only here," she said gently, taking his hand and placing it on her chest over her heart. "And that's where I'm strongest. I'm over it, love. Just a flesh wound—I'm all healed up." She let that sink in before she continued. "But you, you're still hurting, and you won't let me help."

James bristled. "I think you're exaggerating."

"Perhaps," she conceded. "But you miss him."

James was momentarily startled. In his mind, they had been discussing his feelings about her past with Snape, and he had to remind himself that Lily didn't know about that.

"I'm not asking you to tell me what happened," she continued. "What you two argued about is no one's business but your own. All that I ask is that you stop treating me like I'm delicate—lean on me. For whatever you need."

For a moment, James just stared at her. She was…magnificent; so kind, so forgiving. His awe was all the more because those were two things that had never come easily for him. A wave of love for her struck him with such intensity that he could do nothing but pull her into his arms and kiss her. Afterward, he did not release her, but continued to clutch her tightly.

"What do you need?" she asked in a whisper.

It was a while before James answered. "I'm pretty sure you just gave it to me."

She kissed his neck and sighed contentedly. "So," she spoke into his shoulder, "does this mean you'll start shagging me properly again?"

Laughter rose in his throat, and James couldn't hold it back. He pulled away from her just enough to capture her mouth in kiss. It felt good to let his guard down with her again.

"Anything you want, love," he promised against her lips when they came up for air.

As he made to resume the snog, however, she placed a hand on his chest to hold him back. "_Anything_ I want?" Mischief glittered in her eyes.

James hesitated, swallowing heavily and wondering what exactly she had in mind. Then he nodded. "Anything you want."

"Lie back," she ordered.

He did as he was told, all at once quite turned on. She stood to allow him to recline his full length on the sofa. Then she swung a leg over his hips and straddled him.

James gulped as she lowered herself onto his fast-growing erection. God, that was perfect. His hands rose to grip her waist and press her more firmly against him, but Lily batted them away.

"We're not done with our talk," she said sternly. "There is something else that needs to be addressed."

As she said this, she rocked her body into his. James hissed a sharp breath at the sensation.

"Any guesses as to what that might be?" she asked deviously, continuing to ride him in slow, deliberate strokes.

Merlin, was this some sort of torture? A new interrogation technique? If so, it should be illegal. His hips were rising to meet hers now with an enthusiasm he could not suppress.

"Well?" she prodded and James remembered that she had asked him a question.

He shook his head.

Lily leaned forward so that she had a hand propping herself up planted just above each of his shoulders, holding her mouth just out of his reach. "Why, Mr. Potter, will you not let me suck you off?"

James was so stunned by that query that he almost forgot to hump back the next time her cunny rocked into him.

"What?" He hoped his voice hadn't actually broken the way he thought it might have.

"Every time I make my way down there, you pull away and distract me." She kissed him slowly. When she moved back, licking her lips in a manner that made him groan, she demanded, "Why?"

James swallowed and closed his eyes. He couldn't believe she was asking him this. He couldn't believe she was asking him _this way_. Dry sex was undue coercion, really. The answer was simple, and it wasn't as though it was some kind of big secret. He should have thought she'd have figured it out by now.

"I stop you b-because…I know I don't have near enough self-control." He was having trouble getting his words out. Bloody hell, if she didn't stop what she was doing soon, he was going to come. "If you were to…touch me that way, I'm not sure I could last more than a few seconds."

He opened his eyes to see her grinning down at him. "Partial to a girl's mouth on your knob, are you?"

That was an understatement. As Sirius delighted in bringing up at inappropriate moments, James' taste for oral sex bordered on the fetishistic. Sirius finding out about this had been an unfortunate result of the two of them sleeping with the same gossipy girls. Apparently, Junie Harmer and Hera Urquhart had felt this information was anything but private. James was rather obsessed with receiving as well as giving; he never lasted long no matter what the circumstances or who the girl, but something told him this would be especially true if he tried with Lily.

God, just the thought of Lily down there…. James groaned and seized her waist in his hands. He couldn't resist pulling her snugly down against his erection. If they hadn't been on this narrow sofa, he would have rolled them over so he could be on top of her.

"Lily," he panted, "I really need to fuck you."

"No."

James froze at that word, more than a little taken aback. His grip on her waist slackened, and she took the opportunity to resume riding him.

She leaned down so that her breath tickled his ear. "I'm going to have you in my mouth first."

His whole body was trembling now. "I…I don't think that's such a good idea."

"I disagree."

Hadn't she been listening? He would have tried explaining it to her again, but Lily's tongue snaked into his ear and he couldn't manage to speak. With one last hard roll of her hips, Lily rose up on all fours and began to crawl backward down his body, trailing kisses in her wake.

James stopped her briefly to pull her in for a kiss. "I don't want to embarrass myself," he confessed.

Lily smiled. "You won't," she reassured him. "If anything, I'll be flattered." She paused, then whispered in a rush, "I think about this more than any girl should."

His eyes widened. "You think about it? As in _fantasize_?"

Her skin glowed scarlet as she nodded.

James gritted his teeth against the sweet pressure rising in his cock. "Merlin Lily, you're going to make me come in my trousers."

She giggled. "I think it's safe to say that neither of us wants that." Lily kissed the shadow of stubble on his chin and murmured, "Please. Please, James. Let me."

God help him, was she _begging_? Fucking hell, he wasn't going to last two seconds. The last bit of his resolve evaporated at sound of her plea. Jerkily, he nodded.

When she began to move down his body again, James yanked one of the sofa's decorative throw pillows out from under his body and put it over his face. Maybe if he couldn't watch he would be able to hold out longer. He tried to calm himself by thinking of non-sexual things when he felt her warm fingers working the fastenings of his trousers open. It didn't much help; the rush of cool air over his nethers and the feel of her soft hands extracting his cock with care were too stimulating.

Every single second seemed to take about a year as he waited for the wet contact of Lily's mouth. When he finally felt the touch of her lips, it was like a jolt of lightning. Slowly, torturously, she trailed her closed lips over the tip of his throbbing knob. James groaned into his pillow. Then, without warning, the lips spread and the head of his cock slid into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around the skin in a complete circle before she gave a hard suck. James cried out this time, bucking his hips. For a brief moment, his over-sensitized tip grazed the back of her throat. Worrying that he might make her gag, James forced himself to lie flat again, even though her throat had felt heavenly.

"Sorry." His voice was muffled by the pillow.

Lily giggled in response—with the head of his cock still in her mouth. _Fuck!_ The gentle vibrations nearly set him off, and he was only just able to rein himself in.

James was just thinking of what a close call that was, when Lily began to labor in earnest. It seemed like the most prolonged pleasure and agony he had ever experienced, yet when he looked back on it later, he knew it couldn't have lasted longer than a minute or so.

He lifted the pillow off his face because he had to see what she looked like with him in her mouth before it was over. He was not disappointed. Her normally porcelain cheeks were flushed with arousal, and her eyes were closed as she sucked heartily.

"I'm—I'm coming!" he cried out in warning as he surrendered. His eyes rolled back into his head as he shuddered with wave after wave of exhilarating ecstasy. The peak was so intense that it was almost painful.

His release left him gasping and limp. He couldn't summon the will to move, and the frenetic pounding of blood through every inch of his body felt as though it would burst through his skin. He moaned when Lily cast a charm to clean up his mess, the stimulation a bit much for his overly sensitive member. Lily gave the tip of his cock one last affectionate kiss before moving up to settle against him. Automatically, his arms encircled her.

When he opened his eyes, she was watching him with an expression that said rather plainly that she was pleased with herself. "I had no idea that you enjoyed getting sucked off so much, Potter."

He swallowed heavily and grinned. "I had no idea that you enjoyed doing it so much, Evans."

"I don't," she confessed.

His smiled faltered somewhat.

"Not in general, anyway," she elaborated quickly. "You're…you're a special case. Don't ask me why, but since our first night together, I've really wanted to do that for you."

"Well," James said, "you were fucking fantastic."

Lily smiled giddily. "Anytime," she whispered. Her manner was playful, but her eyes told him that she was serious.

He gulped. Merlin, she was already turning him on again.

"I was beginning to think you were an oddity," she said. "That you weren't into that sort of thing."

James laughed mirthlessly. Sometimes he wished. "And I thought you were mad about monkeys. Because of the combs."

Her brows knit for a moment, then realization lit in her eyes. "Is that why you suggested we go to Slug's masque dressed as…?"

James nodded. "As it turns out, they were an heirloom from your grandmother, and you react _very_ strongly to any suggestion that you dress as a monkey."

She laughed. "I do love monkeys, but that doesn't mean I want to dress as one for a fancy party. A monkey mask would have been ridiculous with my dressrobes, and I wanted you to think I looked pretty."

"Oh, I did," he reassured her. "You have no idea how close we came to not making it to the party at all. One look at you, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to throw you on my bed and shag you ragged."

Lily blushed. "Oh. I couldn't be sure. That was back when I was still trying to figure out why you wouldn't sleep with me."

James guffawed. "I was more than willing to sleep with you. I was just taking my time."

"What was I supposed to think? You jumped at your first chance to lose your virginity—at _fourteen_, and you only dated Heather Tillney for a few weeks—and I know that you two…you know."

"You're not Heather Tillney," he told her. "You're not Integra Towler, or Bridget Starkey, or Hera Urquhart, or Junie Harmer, or Esther Mumps either." He held her chin so that she couldn't look away. "You're Lily Evans."

Her eyes were wide and unblinking. "I'm Lily Evans," she whispered.

His fingers came up to tangle themselves in her hair. "And I _am_ sorry—about the comb. I had no idea it meant so much to you. I never planned to keep it indefinitely, but I would have returned it much sooner if I had known."

Lily smiled at him, and then ducked her head as she blushed guiltily. "I stole something of yours as well."

"In fifth year?"

"No, after the Hufflepuff match. I…I have your father's belt."

James barked out a surprised laugh. "Why?"

Lily shrugged. "I was angry when I found the comb. By the time I was thinking rationally, it was already stowed in my bag."

She climbed fully on top of him from her nook between the back of the sofa and his chest, so that she could reach the book bag she had dropped earlier. James enjoyed the soft press of her curves against him.

A moment later her hand rose to reveal his father's belt. He took it from her and tossed it onto the tea table where his books and schoolwork lay forgotten. "I was looking for that."

"Sorry," she said softly.

He grinned at her. "I never even suspected you. I thought I must have misplaced it, or else Sirius had run off with it."

Her lips parted, no doubt to apologize again, but James pulled her face down to his and kissed her instead. Honestly, he wasn't too bothered about the belt. It was his father's, true, but at the end of the day, it was just a belt.

Lily was stiff with surprise for a moment, but recovered herself quickly. She sighed and her fingers curled into his hair.

James was just considering how he might entice her up to his bedroom for a nice long romp when a chiming caught his attention. Breaking from what was fast becoming a full-on snog, his eyes flew to the grandfather clock against the far wall.

"Bugger," he griped. "I have to get to class."

Lily moaned her disappointment, and James felt a warm glow of satisfaction in his chest.

As they sat up, James kissed her again. "I promise you a shag after lessons."

"All right," she sighed.

James couldn't suppress the goofy smirk on his face as he adjusted and re-fastened his trousers. He gathered up what he would need for class, his eyes on his girlfriend. He was making the right decision; if he had told her he was feeling angry and disgusted about her past with Snape, they would not be parting this way now. She would be hurt, possibly furious. There would be awkward tension between them. But that wouldn't be fair, because the truth was that Lily had done nothing wrong. She was a hell of a girlfriend, and no less than the best thing that had happened to him in his short life. He loved her more just now than he could begin to express, even if he was a mind to.

Snape…Snape was the past, and as James gazed into Lily's beautiful eyes just before ducking out the portrait hole, he could barely remember who Snape was.

* * *

Lily was awash with contentment in a way she couldn't remember having been for some time. Something of a smile tugged at her lips ever so slightly as she meandered her way through the Magical Creatures section of the library. The day had gone better than she could have hoped, and she couldn't help but feel a large weight lifted from her.

The discomfort and guilt that had been her constant companions since she had initiated her relationship with James were gone. She no longer felt shallow or manipulative. She was in love with her boyfriend, and today, for the first time, she felt certain that she had been the girlfriend he deserved. Lily had made up her mind: she was in this for the long haul, and she had made every effort to demonstrate that to James.

He had responded the way she had hoped. Finally, things were back to normal between them. Better than normal even, because now there was only one uncertainty rather than many. Of course, that uncertainty was no small matter. Did James love her as she loved him? She couldn't be sure. Sometimes he was so aloof, even as he said and did the right things. Yet, there were also times when he would look at her with such intensity that she knew, she just knew, he was a breath away from saying the words.

Today, when he had left her in the common room of the Head dormitories, was one of those times. It seemed he had enjoyed their interlude on the sofa as much as she had. Equally heartening, he seemed as relieved as she was to have the air from that blasted Hufflepuff match cleared.

They had arranged to meet in the library at eight, but it was almost curfew and he had still not arrived. He had sent her a message hours ago letting her know he would be very late. According to the note, it seemed that Professor McGonagall had all but dragooned him into tutoring a group of fourth years having trouble with Switching Spells. Lily smiled despite herself at the thought.

About a month ago, she had witnessed one such session. His proficiency in the subject aside, James was not a particularly good tutor. When it came to anything remotely mathematical, his brain tended to make leaps and skip steps that to him were entirely self-evident. Then, he would be dismayed when his pupils didn't follow him. The fundamentals of Transfiguration certainly fell into that category. It was almost funny. He could transfigure a hat stand into a Dalmatian without batting an eye, but damned if he could show anyone else how to do it. Lily had finally taken pity on him and outlined the steps carefully and patiently for the second years, who were attempting something much less difficult. It was hard to say who was more relieved at her intervention, James or the second years.

"You're a good teacher, Lily," said Daphne's younger brother, Sebastian, afterward. "Can it just be you next time?"

James had thumped the boy on the back of the head playfully, but had whispered in her ear, "Can it? Please?"

With that in mind, it was hard to imagine that the study group was going well.

The only thing more endearing than watching James try to teach Transfiguration, was watching him do his Astronomy schoolwork with Sirius. The actual assignment was rarely completed. As with most of James' classes, in Astronomy he relied on his high test scores and classroom performance to maintain his marks and only turned in the most important essays. But he and Sirius had developed a game over the years which they called 'Battle of the Planets'. Lily wasn't clear on most of the rules, but she did know that it involved divvying up the planets of the solar system, and then each player was allowed to change the orbit of a planet by a certain number of degrees in turns. The object seemed to be to cause your opponent's planets to crash into each other, and to keep your own from doing the same. They took into account moons, axis changes, asteroids, and pretty much everything else from what she'd gathered. The whole thing would take a dizzying amount of calculations, and shouting matches would often break out over who had done the arithmetic correctly. James and Sirius threw themselves into it so completely that they forgot everything around them; it was almost as though they were speaking their own little language. The first night Lily had witnessed the laughing, and shouting, and sound effects the boys made with their mouths, Remus had leaned over and confided to her that this game had caused them to be kicked out of the library more than once.

Lily had to contain a giggle. Obviously she had it bad if she found these sorts of things to be irresistibly adorable.

Of course, it had been weeks since she'd witnessed Battle of the Planets. James and Sirius weren't speaking after all.

A musk of cumin and cedar found her nostrils, and she sighed even before he slid his arms around her from behind.

"Sorry love," he whispered after kissing her temple. "Bloody thick fourth years didn't grasp the theory until just a few minutes ago."

She smiled inwardly, but held her tongue.

"Kettleburn give you an essay?" he asked, nodding his head at the shelf of Magical Creatures books before her.

"Yes," she leaned back against him, further into his embrace. "We've just started dragons. That requires a lot more bookwork because he obviously can't bring one for the lesson."

"You have most of what you need?"

"Just about," she straitened up and reached for a book on Ukrainian Ironbellies she had been staring at absently before James had walked up. "Now I just need a good one on Antipodean Opaleyes."

She turned and started heading left down the aisle. James followed behind her. "We had to pick three species to study in depth, so I chose the Antipodean Opaleye, the Ukrainian Ironbelly, and the Welsh Green. I figured that would give me a fairly diverse cross-section."

"I thought you were already doing a bunch of research on Peruvian—"

"That's for my Potions Master License, and it was just the venom." She stopped, her eyes scanning the shelf now that she was close. "Besides, I've never really cared for how they look. Ugly little lizardy things."

James laughed behind her. "You care how they look?"

"Not really, but if I can pick any three I want, I'd rather have three that look like dragons, not salamanders."

"Even if it means more work?"

She made a face at him. "It's not much more work. Most of what I've found about the Peruvian Vipertooth is only applicable in potion making anyway."

She spotted the book she wanted on a shelf that was just out of her reach. "Would you mind grabbing that big blue book for me?" she asked, pointing to the one she meant.

"I might."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm not much taller than you are," he defended. "I'll probably have to get a stepladder."

"Poor thing." It was well within his reach and they both knew it.

He wagged his finger at her. "If I break my neck it's your fault."

With that, he reached up and extracted _Opal Kings of New Zealand_ from the shelf easily.

"Thank you, James," she said as she went to take it from him.

But he didn't let go. She looked up, and saw that his expression was rather surprised. Then the shock was replaced by a singular intensity that sent a shiver through her. He took a step toward her, and she took one back—back into the shelf of books.

"What?" she asked.

He pulled free _Opal Kings of New Zealand_ from her fingers and the stack of books already cradled in her arms, and then dropped them to the ground.

"James!" she cried in astonishment.

This had the most peculiar effect on him, however. He closed his eyes and seemed to shudder just a bit. When his eyes opened again, she recognized what was radiating from them: stark lust.

She swallowed as he pinned her against the shelves behind her.

"What's gotten into you?"

"You tell me," he spoke against her ear, his hot breath making her knees feel like jelly. "You're the one who's wet."

"What?" she asked, genuinely confused. Before he had gone all funny, sex had been the furthest thing from her mind. Well, perhaps not the furthest, but it had certainly been nowhere near the forefront. "Why would you say that?"

He kissed her neck. "You called me James," he whispered. "You only call me James in bed, when you need to come."

He nipped her in a way that would certainly leave a mark, momentarily distracting her, but those words would not be ignored. _She only called him James in bed?_ That couldn't be right.

Could it?

She remembered clearly the first time she had addressed him by his given name. It had been the morning she had taken the dose of Brynhild's Elixir, the morning she had first tried to seduce him. But surely she called him James all the time now. She racked her brain, desperately trying to call to her mind one time she had used 'James' in a situation that wasn't sexual. She knew that she didn't have all her mental faculties at the moment, what with James' mouth on the sensitive skin of her throat, still she couldn't remember even one occasion.

Merlin help her, what he said was probably true.

And just moments ago she had been congratulating herself on being a such a good girlfriend to him. But the truth was, out of bed her guard was still up too high to even call him by his name.

She didn't want it to be this way anymore—she didn't want walls between them. She had torn down so many that she had kidded herself into thinking she was done. But it was obvious there was more to go. It was a sickening thought, but was sex one of them? Had she really taken one of the most intimate acts of love and perverted it to her own purposes so that even when she and James were entwined, they weren't even touching? She thought of it as making love, and she'd heard James use that terminology as well, but were they really just rutting?

The idea froze her blood cold.

"James," she said, her voice as sober as she felt.

It was evident he was too preoccupied to pick up on her tone, as his response was to lift her so that the toes of her maryjanes barely grazed the wooden floor, and part her thighs with his knee so that he could fit between them. She felt him press the hard heat of his erection against her, and heard him groan at the pleasure of it against her neck.

Lily wished she could say she enjoyed it, but that was not the case. Usually, she found his sexual tunnel vision endearing—especially when it was completely inappropriate. It made her feel deliciously wanted and desirable to be pawed at when they should be revising or patrolling, or when they could easily be caught. It was reassuring that James was as mad for her body as she was for his, and normally she would have been almost smug at having brought about such an enthusiastic response by simply uttering one little word. But the one little word in question was his name, and that made the whole thing feel so…wrong. She remembered hearing about Sirius' experimental Pavlovian Charm and thinking that it was in incredibly poor taste. Well, she hadn't used a spell, but that just made it worse.

Her initial reaction had been that it was strange that James would even notice what she called him—let alone to the degree it would take to develop such a response. But that was just her being self-involved again. Of course he would notice. It was important to him; _it was his name_. He had spent a fair portion of third year trying to get her to call him 'James'. He had implemented various tactics, including trickery, begging, blackmail—even bribery. The more he had wanted it, the deeper she had dug in her heels. It was unspoken, but they both knew that if she ever started calling him 'James' of her own free will, it would mean that she liked him, perhaps even cared for him. She had been careful, so careful, never to slip up—because it would do no good to encourage him, and she abhorred the very idea of admitting to even herself how very much she wanted to call him by his given name. In six years, her vigilance had never slipped, but they were together now. How could she have been so remiss as to forget to revise her former policy? How could she have been so careless as not to realize she was only using his name in particular circumstances? How could she have been so heartless as to deny James something—and such a _small_ thing—that he had wanted desperately since they met?

James' hands were working their way under her skirt, but she barely registered them. Instead she felt tears pricking her eyes.

"James," she tried again, but once more to no avail. _If I called him 'Potter' it would probably snap him right out of it_, she reflected wryly. But she didn't; she couldn't. Not right now and possibly never again.

She took a shaking breath. "James, please stop!"

Lily didn't know if it was the word 'stop' or the desperation in her voice that got through to him, but James immediately halted his roving hands, and pulled his head back from the crook of her neck. His lust-fogged expression cleared as he studied her, becoming alarmed. In confused wonder, one of his hands rose to sweep away a tear she hadn't known was there.

"Good God, Lily what's wrong?" he asked, his voice so gentle and full of concern that it tugged at her heart painfully.

What could she say to that?

_I'm a bad girlfriend?_ No, he would just take that as prompt to reassure her.

_Why are things so difficult between us?_ Too melodramatic.

_I love you?_ Her heart stopped beating and her lungs stopped breathing just at the thought of telling him. No—no, definitely not!

"I…I love your name."

It was a testament to how upset she must look that James did not laugh. Indeed, he looked more anxious than ever. "You love my name?"

She nodded. "I love your name—I want to use it. All the time." The tears were coming heavily now, fat and hot, down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, James. I'm so sorry that I…that I haven't…."

His eyes became wide. "Is that what this is about? Oh, love, don't cry. It's all right." He kissed her cheek, and then the bridge of her nose. "It's all right."

But it wasn't. It really wasn't—everything in Lily screamed with it. There was something in his eyes, or rather, something that wasn't in his eyes.

Lily wrapped herself around him, locking her ankles about his waist. Her arms wove around his neck, and she pulled him close for a kiss.

Fix it. She had to fix it.

But this time it was James who wasn't in the moment, and Lily's tunnel vision didn't work the way his did. She broke the tender kiss, and buried her face in his neck. She couldn't look at him.

Her throat constricted with tears, but she fought them back. She refused to come up for air before she stopped crying. Dimly, she was aware of the wooden shelf digging into her back and James' hand coming up to stroke her hair.

After a few of the longest minutes of her life, she finally felt calm enough to emerge. The first sight to meet her, however, sent her insides back to a full tumult.

Dead, black eyes. Watching her. Watching them.

"Severus," she breathed, almost in James' ear, and she felt the body holding hers stiffen.


	14. Rounds with Remus

**14**

**Rounds With Remus**

"I don't think he believed me."

"Why shouldn't he?"

Lily propped her chin on the arms she had folded over her long-abandoned schoolwork. "By the time I let go of him and he turned around, Severus was gone."

"And his immediate reaction was to call you a liar?" Melody asked. Her schoolwork had never even made it out of her bag.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Of course he didn't. He just seemed…suspicious."

Melody tried to hide her amusement, but failed. "Well who can blame him? You, James, and Snape were all in the library, before curfew, at the same time. How can that not be a conspiracy?"

"Was that sarcasm? Please tell me that was sarcasm," Lily said, wrinkling her nose.

"Oh, yes. Definitely sarcasm. It's a public place. What were you and James thinking, having a hump against the shelves?"

"I think the moral of the story is that we weren't thinking."

"Some of those books are antiques, for Merlin's sake. It's doing future generations a disservice to scum them up."

Lily swatted her friend's arm. "There was no scum of any kind—anywhere."

"Then you're doing it wrong."

"We didn't _do_ anything," Lily protested.

"You would have, if you had any proper sense of tartiness. But no, you had to have a cry."

Lily had to concede that crying had just made everything worse. "Silly of me, that," she said softly.

After she had blurted Severus' name, James had gone rigid. He had plied her limbs from his body, and set her on the ground away from him. When Lily looked at his face, it had been thunderous.

And, glancing about, she'd noted that Severus was nowhere to be found.

"James—"

"What the hell did you mean by that, Evans?"

"I didn't _mean_ anything. He was standing right behind you; I was startled," she had explained earnestly.

James had snorted. "Of course he was. And, undoubtedly, you say his name all hungry and soft like that every time you see him across the room. But are you sure you didn't just forget it was me you were grabbing at?"

Lily's jaw had gone a little slack at that accusation. He was so far off base that it took her a moment to respond. "He _was_ behind you, you git. And I didn't say his name 'hungry and soft'—I had just finished crying. What was my voice supposed to sound like? And…and you're a real moron if you think I could ever confuse you with anyone else, especially Severus."

At this, James' jaw had tightened. He'd stooped, picked up her books, and headed for the exit. His strides were so large, she'd had to trot to keep up. She had tried to speak to him a few times as they made their way to their dormitories but he didn't respond, and she hadn't wanted to make a scene. After they had climbed through the ill-mannered fairy's portrait hole, she had tried again, but he was ready.

James had dropped her books on one of the study tables and turned to face her. When she'd opened her mouth, he'd put a finger over her lips.

"I believe you, all right," he'd said with a frustrated growl. "Just…don't ever call me Snape again."

She had tried to speak, even though his finger was in the way.

But James had shaken his head. "Lily, please listen to me when I tell you that the less you say about him, the better. I've got the general idea—the last bloody thing in the world I need is details."

Thinking back on that moment now, Lily felt a lump expand in her throat. She had no idea how to handle this. Last night, she had let the subject drop, deciding to wait for him to calm down and not provoke his anger further, and the two of them had gone up to bed. It was one of the few nights that sleep was all that had transpired, and the only night James hadn't at least thrown an arm over her. When she woke this morning, he was already gone. She couldn't help but think that she'd handled the whole thing poorly.

Melody sobered as she studied Lily. She slowly leaned in closer and whispered, "What has James said about, you know, your relationship with Snape?"

Lily made a face. "He doesn't really know."

"He…he doesn't?" Melody seemed a little taken aback.

Shifting uncomfortably, she answered, "We've never talked about it. At least, not in specifics."

"Why not?"

She shrugged, but didn't meet Melody's eye. "Every time Severus comes up, or we talk about our dating pasts, James changes the subject. He says he doesn't want to know. To tell you the truth, I'm sort of relieved. I don't know how to have that conversation with him anyway. He's unreasonable enough when it comes to Severus—just _livid_. Imagine what he'd be like if I told him everything." Lily didn't add that she hadn't really told Melody everything, either. Dumbledore was the only one she had told about the Dark Mark. "James has been a big enough prat as it is. I've about had my fill. This morning at breakfast I contemplated tossing my pumpkin juice in his face."

Melody cracked a smile at that. "Well, you know I fully endorse throwing food at people who deserve it, but Lily, I'm not sure hiding how you felt about Snape is the best idea."

"I'm not hiding anything. We just haven't talked about it is all. I told you, he doesn't want to."

There was a prolonged pause before Melody spoke again. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. "Have you considered that he might hear about it from someone else? Someone…who might not put much of a positive spin on the whole thing?"

Lily almost asked, "Like whom?" but stopped herself as the pieces fell into place. Melody and Pilar were the only ones who knew for certain that Lily and Severus' relationship had ever been anything more than platonic—well, and Remus now. But Remus had promised not to say anything, and Pilar rather liked Severus, most of the time. Her account of the relationship would have been far kinder than say…Melody's.

"What did you do?" Lily demanded.

Melody looked more relieved than defensive that Lily had understood what she meant so quickly. "It wasn't on purpose. He seemed to know what I was talking about. I assumed that you had talked to him about it, and I was just being flip. It wasn't a tell-all kind of conversation, just a few off-hand bitchy comments. But then, he was so angry. And he said things—meaner things than I can ever remember him saying."

"What things?"

Melody hesitated.

"What things?" Lily persisted firmly.

Closing her eyes, Melody answered, "He said, 'It's not like I didn't suspect. When something pretty is in the Knut bin, there's always a reason.'"

Lily was stiff and almost breathless. Vaguely, she remembered Melody's words in the infirmary after that blasted Hufflepuff game: _he said you were a Knut bin_. "When was this?" she asked quietly.

"Right before Hufflepuff handed us our balls. It was why he was so angry that day. And…" she hesitated again, but then plowed on, "from what I've gathered from Sirius, it's what the two of them fought about as well."

Merlin, this was all wrong, backwards even. James knew about Severus? Melody had told him? Impossible—Lily would have never even considered it. Sure, Melody talked a lot, especially when she thought she was being funny, but she wasn't a blabbermouth. She was normally a fairly reliable secret keeper.

"You've talked to Sirius? After all this…everything?"

Now Melody looked defensive. "He's my friend, Lily."

Lily made an unkind noise that had little to do with Melody and Sirius speaking, and everything to do with her own squirming insides.

"Sirius said he made some crude comment about you being Snape's leavings, and James just snapped."

Suddenly things made sense on so many levels. Oh God, she was going to vomit.

"I smacked him a good one for you, obviously, but honestly I don't think he could have felt lousier," Melody ventured tentatively.

Lily sat speechless. She was fairly certain that if she could've moved, she would have attacked her friend.

_When something pretty is in the Knut bin_….

_Snape's leavings_….

_I need another shower_….

It was all so sordid, and the words of these boys, these cruel, vulgar boys made her feel…dirty. And _angry_—so very angry.

"Lily?" an unfamiliar voice spoke to her left. She turned to see a fifth year prefect whose name eluded her in her current emotional state.

"That Rory Pye is outside the portrait hole. He says he needs to talk to you."

Before Lily could find her voice, Melody spoke for her, "Tell him to bugger off."

The prefect hesitated. "He says it's important and urgent."

Melody snorted. "Did he now? Probably just rearing to complain about some nit who didn't drain the tub in the prefect's bath."

Lily ignored her, rising from her seat. She had to get away from Melody before she said or did something she would later regret, and while Pye was certainly not the most pleasant distraction, he would serve. She abandoned her things at the study table and walked rigidly across the Gryffindor common room to the portrait hole.

Pye was waiting for her.

"I think something bad happened," he said without preamble.

Lily's brows knit.

"To Pilar," he elaborated. "She was crying."

That immediately had Lily's attention. Pilar rarely cried, and never in public. "Where is she?"

"I saw McGonagall and Dumbledore lead Pilar and Marisol into that room off the Great Hall."

Lily nodded. She knew the place, and she started toward the stairs. Surprisingly, Pye went with her.

"There was someone else with them, as well. A chap I've never seen before."

That was odd. "What did he look like?"

"Like Pilar, actually—I think they're perhaps related."

"Young? Old?"

"Quite young."

So it was probably one of Pilar's brothers. "Was his hair long or short?"

Pye shrugged. "About shoulder length."

It was likely Miguel. But that didn't make sense—Miguel was supposed to be in Croatia working on a treaty. Then again, Alejandro was even further away, in Bolivia. If the young man Pye saw was truly one of Pilar's brothers, this would have to be very bad indeed to pull them from their commitments of international importance. Lily sped up her strides.

"Lily? Who is he?" Pye asked in alarm, his steps keeping with hers.

Lily realized that she hadn't let him in on her deductions. "One of her brothers, I think."

They were nearing the Great Hall, weaving in and out of the regular foot-traffic, when Pye accidentally trod on the back of Lily's maryjane. Lily spun to face him.

"What are you doing here, Rory?" she snapped. Almost immediately, she regretted it. It wasn't his fault she was rubbed raw.

His demeanor, if anything, became more agitated. "I just—I rather…. I want to know that she's all right."

Perhaps it was unbecoming of her, but Lily was mildly taken aback by that answer. She studied the boy before her: all blond hair, freckles, and long limbs; Muggleborn and Hufflepuff. As boys in Pilar's world went, Rory Pye had been the exception to the rule. Pye hadn't been a dalliance; he had been a boyfriend. Perhaps Pilar's only true boyfriend. Pilar had gone against her father for this boy, she had given her virginity to this boy, and he had repaid her by tossing her aside for Elspeth Smith. Lily and Melody had never liked him. He was too swotty, too priggish, too pompous. When the relationship had ended the way it had, the two of them had taken every opportunity to verbally abuse him in righteous outrage on behalf of Pilar. After all…what a _bastard_.

And yet, here he stood, genuinely worried for his ex-girlfriend, proof positive that break ups were rarely all they seemed from the outside.

Lily took a deep breath, and then spoke as kindly as she could manage under the circumstances. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to come with me the rest of the way, but I will let you know."

He nodded slowly, and Lily proceeded without him.

The Great Hall was empty so Lily's steps echoed dully as she walked. She made her way behind the staff table, and to the door on the left. It was a room she had never entered. She paused, swallowed to brace herself, and then knocked on the door.

It was a long moment before it opened and Professor McGonagall was on the other side. "Miss Evans?" she was clearly surprised to see Lily standing there. "This is a private conference."

"She can come in," Lily heard Pilar's voice from inside the room.

McGonagall reluctantly, and with an expression of disapproval, stepped aside and allowed Lily to enter.

Pilar and Marisol each sat in stuffed chairs by the fireplace. Their elder brother Miguel stood beside Marisol's chair and was stroking the girl's hair as she sobbed into his fine robes. Dumbledore's hands were linked behind his back and his face was grave.

No one spoke for a moment and Lily felt a sense of dread rising.

Finally, Dumbledore looked at her directly. "Ambassador Hernando Garza was murdered earlier today. The Dark Mark was set above the estate."

Lily's stomach dropped. Her eyes darted to Pilar who was sitting proud and stiff in her chair. The only sign of her grief was the tinge of red in the whites of her eyes betraying past tears. But her eyes were dry now, and she sat with her back straight and her chin high, steady hands resting in her lap. She looked, for all the world, like the most regal princess, and not like a girl who had just been told her father was dead.

Lily remembered one of her few visits to the Garza estate when she had been thirteen. A boy in the nearby village had thrown mud on Pilar's new dress. Pilar had shouted at the boy and cried. Her mother had chastised her for it in front of Lily and Melody.

"This unseemliness is beneath you, _querida_. You are a lady," Paloma Garza had said sharply. "I have named you for your strength, and you must never show weakness. People are always watching us, watching your father. Do not disgrace him."

Poise and detachment: two things the three elder Garza children had cultivated in spades, but that little Marisol had not at all, Lily noted pityingly as she gazed at the blubbering girl.

"Your mother?" Lily managed to inquire.

She had asked the question of Pilar, but it was Miguel who answered. "She's unharmed. She found him when she arrived home from her Saturday tea with the Minister's wife."

His accent lilted prettily over those horrific words. Pilar's accent was so faint that it only turned up in certain words, and Marisol had no accent at all, but their brothers had been much older before the move to England and their speech showed it.

Silence rang in the large room before Lily asked awkwardly, "What can I do?"

Miguel's expression was indulgent, and Lily knew that he was going to say that there was nothing she could do, but Pilar spoke before he could.

"Go up to Gryffindor Tower and pack my things," she said. "Marisol's as well."

"You're leaving Hogwarts then?"

"We're leaving England," Miguel clarified. "It's not safe for us here. There is a war, and Father made too many enemies amongst the subversives."

Lily looked at Pilar. "You're going back to Spain?" She knew it was selfish, especially considering the circumstances, but she hated the idea of someone she loved so dearly being so far away. But Miguel had said it, the word she avoided using because it was just too terrifying to think of it as real: war.

"I will write you, Lily," Pilar said firmly. It was a promise.

Lily nodded, because there was nothing else to do. "I'll get your things," she whispered.

She knew that packing would not take long. Pilar and Marisol were orderly and kept their things in logical places. They would not be strewn about the castle as if she were packing for herself or that traitor Melody. _Melody!_

Lily stopped, her hand on the doorknob. Melody would want to know. Never mind this silly phase she and Pilar were going through. Melody's family lands had bordered Pilar's for ten years. Where Lily had always been intimidated by Pilar's parents, especially the ambassador, Melody treated them as her own. Where Lily had never known what to say to the taciturn Alejandro, and had never been able to be in the same room with the beautiful Miguel without blushing, Melody could carry on Quidditch debates with the elder that would shake the walls, and she'd given her first kiss to the younger—much to Pilar's chagrin and Lily's jealousy. Marisol called Melody her "nice sister". For all intents and purposes, Pilar's family was Melody's family.

Lily turned around and looked at Pilar. "Mel," she said. "I'll bring Mel, too."

"No!" Pilar protested, alarmed. "Please don't."

Lily had to restrain herself from voicing her frustration. This was getting ridiculous. Pilar _needed_ Melody right now. Lily knew it, because…how could she not?

Pilar looked down at her hands as though she understood what Lily was thinking, even if Lily had not said the words.

"I can't," she said, something in her manner showed more vulnerability than Lily had ever seen. "Not today. I just can't."

Lily stared at Pilar. Rigid Pilar, who compartmentalized every little emotion to keep them all from mingling. To Pilar's way of thinking, reconciling with Melody and mourning her father would be too much to be getting on with in one moment—a way of thinking Lily found to be absurd. Yet, in the end, it was really Pilar's decision, and Lily would respect that. "All right then. No Melody."

* * *

James glared up at the ceiling of the infirmary, focusing on the pain. The pain was good. It kept him alert, it kept the adrenaline in his blood. The pain…fed the hate. And oh, how he reveled in the hate just now.

Unfortunately, the pain also meant that he could not act on his hate. Because the pain, of course, was the result of his very broken leg. He couldn't get up, and he felt trapped in his narrow hospital bed.

There was a loud bang, the sound of a body slamming into the heavy oak doors of the Hospital Wing, accompanied by the scurry of anxious feet.

"Prongs?" Peter called frantically, his voice short of breath. "Prongs!"

"Here," James growled. How many times had they told Peter not to use the _secret_ Marauder tags in public?

The smaller boy skidded to halt beside James' bed. "Merlin, Prongs what happened to you?"

"You should see the other wanker," James forced a hard laugh through gritted teeth and pointed in the general vicinity of the room's other occupant.

Peter followed that line of sight and gasped. "Is that Snape?"

Curtly, James nodded.

"Prongs, Dumbledore's going to expel you."

James restrained himself from hitting Peter, but only with great difficulty. Forget Dumbledore, Lily was going to murder him. Not that he cared—it was about fucking time the bloody bitch put him out of his misery.

"I didn't touch him." But he wished he had. Oh, how he wished he had.

Peter looked as though he doubted it. "What happened to him? He's not moving."

"Poisoned. With his own goddamned potion."

"No," Peter's eyes went very wide. "As in, he might die?"

James didn't even try to suppress his rancor. "And the world would be so much the worse without him."

Peter looked rather scandalized and fearful. "Prongs, he might die."

James rolled his eyes. "He's not going to die, Peter. It's a slow acting poison, and Pomfrey is already brewing the antidote."

"You—you didn't…?" Peter let the question trail off.

"Force feed it to him?" James considered lying for a moment as part of a twisted wish fulfillment scenario, but decided to tell the truth instead. "Of course not. We have Saunders to thank for this one."

"Balbo Saunders? The idiot Ravenclaw?"

"The very same."

Balbo, the poor bastard, was rather legendary throughout the school for being the thickest sod to ever land in Ravenclaw. Perhaps they were a bit hard on him, but it just didn't happen to Ravenclaw much. Slytherin had plenty with eyes too big for their stomachs, and a fair number of the stock crony sort; Hufflepuffs had a tendency to be pack-like in their thinking, or over-idealistic; and James had it on good authority that there was a nasty stereotype abound that Gryffindors were all balls and no brains. But Ravenclaws did all right for themselves in this area—it was their primary House virtue after all. Balbo Saunders, however, proved that you could be a quintessential Ravenclaw and still be denser than Bludger Bat.

He had the best marks of anyone in the entire school, and he would be going for ten NEWT's this year, but Balbo couldn't carry on a normal conversation with anyone. Even customary sentiments like "that lesson was boring," or "she has nice tits," completely confused him. Slang tripped him up, and he used it incorrectly in sentences, sometimes so hilariously that people would repeat it until it was a new expression in its own right. He always had to have jokes explained to him—even standards like the one about the crippled witch, the werewolf, and the foldout couch.

All this, and he was a danger to himself and to others just walking down the hall. Balbo could trip over anything, even things like the floor…or air, and though stringy and pinch-faced, could somehow take a person four or five times larger than he was down with him.

Thus Snape's predicament.

"I went down to the dungeons to see Lily earlier because I thought she was working on her big Potions project—but she _lied_ to me." She hadn't really, but James thought it made for a better story. And after all, hadn't she strung him along about so many other things? She deserved to be called a liar. "But she wasn't there. Balbo was, and that curmudgeon Stafel, and so was King Snivellus. Apparently they're all going for the same license. The whole dungeon smelled like a hippogriff's balls."

James adjusted his leg and sucked in a hard breath through his teeth. Goddamn it that hurt. Pomfrey had said his broken leg could wait, whereas Snape's poisoned arse was first priority.

"I asked Stafel if he'd seen Lily, and he said that Lily never came in on Saturdays because it was too crowded. Well, then Sniv started in sneering at me." James screwed up his face and did what he felt was a spot-on imitation. "'Your girlfriend not telling you things, Potter?' and so on and so forth. He started the whole thing."

There was a muffled and indistinct mumbling across the room and Peter jumped in surprise.

"He's talking," Peter said of Snape.

James scoffed. "If you can call that talking. The poison, blessedly, causes paralysis, so he can't really move his lips."

Snape's grumbles became more hostile.

"Shut it you," James snapped. He turned back to Peter. "Don't listen to him. Every word that comes out of his grimy mouth is a lie."

Peter nodded obediently.

"He started it," James pointed at Snape, "but I walked away like a good Head Boy. I had nothing to do with his little mishap."

"But Saunders did?"

"I wasn't even in the room, damn it." James was getting very irritated with Peter. "I would kiss the twitchy bastard for falling into Snape like that, except that he smacked into me on his way up the stairs to get Pomfrey. I bounced my sore arse down two and a half flights."

"Is that how you got the…" he gestured to the leg James was clutching.

"Motherfucking broken leg? It just might be," James snapped.

Peter shifted. "You're so grouchy today."

"That might have something to do with the motherfucking broken leg and lack of goddamned painkillers." Oh, and the girlfriend whose neck he wanted to wring. That was probably contributing, as well.

After all, the reason looking at Lily made James' stomach churn today had everything to do with the grease-ball in the bed across. Lily had told James that Snape had walked up behind them in the library last night, that he had been there. James knew for certain now that she was telling the truth, though at first he hadn't been completely sure. He had wanted to believe her, but was too shocked and enraged to think about the situation rationally. Because really, to the best of his knowledge, his sweet little girlfriend had just called him 'Severus'. How could he _not_ want to smash something.

And then there was this ludicrous '_James_' business. If he had known how she would react to his pointing out that she never used his given name except when she wanted him to drop his trousers, he never would have brought it up.

"_I love your name_." What the hell did that even mean?

"_I'm so sorry that I haven't_…." What, Lily? You're so sorry that you haven't what? Thought of me as more than a fuck toy? Taken me seriously as a boyfriend? What?

Bugger, but it would have been better if she'd just hauled off and smacked him, yelled at him, done anything but cried. This guilt that she was feeling was grating on his nerves. She hadn't called him anything but 'James' since last night, and it was just so _patronizing_.

They'd had a battle of wills for years over his name. It was supposed to mean something when she said 'James'. It wasn't supposed to fall out of her mouth like it was nothing, damn it.

Especially since she sure as hell didn't say 'Severus' like it was nothing. James didn't care what she said to the contrary, his ears worked just fine and he knew what he'd heard. Lily had said the greasy git's name like she was homesick for him. It made James want to retch.

_She loves him_, James couldn't help but think. Even so, he knew he was exaggerating. Any fool could see that wasn't quite the case. But she _used_ to love him, that wasn't in question. The hows and the whys baffled him, but James didn't think about it too deeply, lest he fall prey to the aforementioned retching. But the hows and the whys weren't really the point, were they?

The problem wasn't that Lily had slept with Snape. That was certainly _a_ problem, but it ranked nowhere high enough on the scale to be _the_ problem. The problem was that Lily had, sometime in the recent past, loved Snape. She had frolicked with him as a child, been in awe of what he had taught and showed her. He had rescued her bloody sister from a fire with style and flare that James might have admired had it been anyone else. She had given him her virginity, and he had broken her heart. It would have been sweeping and epic, if it wasn't all so sickening. And where was James? His great claim to fame in the life and times of Lily Evans was that he could make her come. Really hard—toes curling, nails scratching, and the whole bit—if took his time. The inescapable reality was that wanting to date Lily and actually dating Lily were rather different things.

"Ditch her," he heard himself mumble.

"What?" Peter's ears perked up.

James swallowed hard and carefully. He didn't even know he was thinking about dumping Lily until he'd said the words aloud, but now that he had, the idea couldn't help but take root. "I have to ditch her."

"Who?"

"Lily, of course. Damn it Peter, who else would I be talking about?"

Peter gaped. "You can't chuck Lily, James."

"Why the fuck not?"

"You're in love with her," he said, as though the world were as simple as that.

"The hell I am!" James snapped, though the truth of his friend's words raked over his heart. If a future of being well shot of Lily Evans was the right course of action, why was the mere thought of it so painful?

Snape's indistinct grunting became particularly vicious, and James remembered that the tit was in the room.

James snatched up an open jar of poultice from his bedside table and threw it at Snape without so much as a thought. It landed on the mattress with a thud and Snape's whole upper body was splattered with the viscous substance. James found this to be not-so-surprisingly satisfying, especially when Snape began spitting like some kind of animal.

There was a jar of swabs on the table near where the poultice had been. He almost threw that, too. But then changed his mind, an evil smile splitting his lips.

He withdrew a single swab from the jar, took aim, and let it fly. It landed on Snape's face and stuck in the sludge of balm. James barked a cruel and humorless laugh. This was even better.

James threw another, and another.

"Prongs! What are you doing?"

Peter was such a wet blanket.

"I'm enjoying that magical little thing called life." James threw another. "And you're going to help me."

Peter took a step back from the proffered projectiles, but James knew that the key was just to keep pushing. Wormtail always gave in if you were forceful enough.

"Take one, Peter," James said in tone that barely leashed a snarl.

And Peter took one.

They threw swabs at Snape in silence for several minutes, the all-around tenseness in the room doing nothing to unclench James' jaw. This childish act was not relieving his rage—it was fueling it. He had never hated so much in his life. He hated Peter, easily bullied Peter. He hated Snape for griming all over the girl he loved. He hated Lily for liking it. And he hated himself for…falling short. James felt the flames inside him rising higher and higher.

Then, a very unexpected thought occurred to him: he wished Sirius were here. Sirius would have gladly participated in the swab-throwing, but he also would have set James straight. He would have been able to cut through all the horseshit and tell him what was what. Sirius would have known what to do about Lily. But it was James' own fault that Sirius wasn't here, that Sirius wouldn't be coming.

"Don't…don't do it, James," Peter said, breaking the silence.

"Don't do what?"

Peter shifted uncomfortably. "You know, with Lily. Don't chuck her." He took a handful of swabs from the now almost empty jar to avoid looking James in the eye. "You'll regret it."

James opened his mouth to tell Peter to shut his, but was prevented from doing so when a sharp voice rang out in the almost empty infirmary.

"Just what do you boys think you're doing!" Madam Pomfrey had returned with the antidote. Her eyes were wide with horror and darting between the half-buried figure of Snape, and the two boys who were clearly responsible.

Peter dropped his handful of swabs in fright. James, on the other hand, felt a kind of perverse satisfaction that he had been caught and now he would be punished.

* * *

Hogwarts was quiet, the corridors and rooms dark and empty. Lily and Remus patrolled in relative silence. They had been doing this sort of thing for over two years, and, as they had been the two Gryffindor prefects of their year, they had often done it together. As such, there was not much awkwardness to the silence. He wasn't the type for small talk, so they rarely engaged in any.

Lily and Remus had always managed to be friendly, even when she had despised his closest friends. After all, they didn't bring James, Sirius, or Peter on rounds with them, and outside of their company, Remus was quite reasonable and responsible—which were the only qualities Lily asked for in a patrol partner. She wouldn't have called it a friendship, but there was certainly something friend-like typical to their interactions.

Tonight, however, was not typical in any sense of the word. Lily was barely paying attention to where she was walking. The day had outdone itself in bringing reality home, and something in Lily's comportment must have shown her uneasiness, because for the first time in years, Remus was compelled to initiate conversation.

"I heard about Ambassador Garza," he said.

Lily stopped walking, and looked at her companion. It took her a moment come out of her own head. His face had color, she registered. He was on the upswing from two weeks ago.

"My condolences," he said.

Lily shook her head. "I didn't know him well."

"But he was your friend's father. That means she'll be leaving school, doesn't it?"

"Yes." She smiled grimly. "But that's hardly the worst of the tragedy."

Remus inclined his head in assent. "True. By all accounts he was a good man."

She nodded. "He was a good father, too." Lily folded her arms over her chest. "Poor Pilar," she whispered.

She started walking again and Remus followed. It was several minutes before she spoke again. When she did, she was surprised at her own words.

"This war…is so scary."

Remus didn't seem to know what to say to that.

"I forget about it sometimes, you know. My parents live in the Muggle world, and Hogwarts is so insulated. I know it's real—that it's happening out there—but it's never truly felt real. Until this, until today." She felt tears pricking her eyes.

"Yes," Remus said. "It's quite real."

"I know now that this won't be the last time I hear about someone I know ending up dead."

He didn't say anything to that, and the silence fell again. It wasn't until they ascended the stairs and began to walk the fourth floor that Remus spoke once more.

"Lily," he said and she looked at him, "be careful. Never take for granted that you're a target. Your family will be, too."

"My family has nothing to do with the wizarding world."

"But _you_ do," Remus persisted. "And this war is being fought over whether or not you have a right to. The fact that your parents are Muggles won't make them less of an interest to the Death Eaters."

Lily could not find words to respond. His reminder was the last thing she had wanted to hear. Lily's expression must have given that away, because Remus left his words of caution at that, and they finished their patrol of the fourth floor without speaking again.

When they reached the fifth floor, they heard giggling. It was startling and so out of place that they paused and looked at each other. The darkness and draftiness of the castle matched Lily's mood so well, and laughter was an aberration. It took her a moment to register that she knew one of the voices quite well.

Remus seemed frozen on the spot, so Lily was the one who stepped forward and opened the door to the empty classroom. Hestia Jones sat with her shirt fully unbuttoned on a desk while Brian Cuffe kissed her belly. Both were almost breathless with laughter.

They hadn't heard Lily open the door, and she decided subtlety was out.

"Oi!" Lily barked.

Hestia and Brian jumped, and then dissolved in to hysterical giggles at the sight of the Head Girl and prefect.

Lily was in no mood for their giddiness. "Get dressed and clear off," she snapped. "Ten points from Hufflepuff."

Hestia seemed surprised at receiving this kind of treatment from her friend, but Lily's face did not soften. They rearranged their clothing and rushed from the room, Brian accidentally tumbling a desk in his haste.

He made to right it, but Lily waved him off and did it herself.

"Clumsy sod for a Quidditch player, isn't he?" she heard Remus say as the footfalls of the departing couple faded away.

Lily sank into the desk's chair and rubbed her eyes in exhaustion. "From what I've seen, he's much more agile on a broom than off it."

She opened her eyes in time to see Remus lift a brow as if to say he rather disagreed, and she was reminded of a conversation that had taken place at lunch several weeks ago, back when she and James had just started dating and Remus and Sirius were still on speaking terms. Hestia had been snogging Brian in public after their first Hogsmeade date, and Sirius had felt compelled to take the piss. Lily had ignored it as pointedly as she could manage, but she gathered enough to realize that Remus fancied Hestia.

Lily had asked James about it afterward, curious as to why Remus had never made a move if he liked her so much. He wasn't Hestia's type in the strictest sense, but girls in general were quite responsive to Remus.

James had been bemused by that bit of information, so she had elaborated. Remus was mysterious and secretive, never volunteering personal information, no matter how frivolous. There was something about him that was almost shy, though he was intelligent and dryly witty. And he was certainly sexy enough. His body had a rugged, lived-in quality, which begged the question of just what he did with it that was so trying. Lily had been slightly embarrassed to admit it, but she used to quite fancy him herself, years ago.

James had not cared for that. "Merlin Lily, I thought if I ever got a confession like that, it would be about Sirius. At least I'm used to that."

Lily had sniggered. "Black? No, never—absolutely not."

He had seemed, if anything, more confused. "I thought girls loved, you know, his…." James had made some indiscernible gestures with his hands. "They think he's handsome."

"Of course they do. He's very pretty. But girls like him for what comes out of his mouth much more than the way he looks. He's charming…or just plain smarmy—I never could decide which. Most witches I know, though, seem to come down on the side of charming. Remus is different. He's sort of…magnetic, and he doesn't have to say a word." And then, just because she was enjoying prodding James and the gobsmacked expression on his face so much, she had added, "Sort of a raw sex appeal; like, if you ever got him away from his books and out of those fussy clothes, he'd be an animal."

James' eyes had been wide and thoroughly alarmed by the time she had finished speaking. "You've thought about this, then?"

Lily had shrugged noncommittally. She had, but not with any amount of detail. She had been fourteen at the time, after all, and sex had been a fascinating subject, but a terribly vague one as well.

At that point, however, Lily realized that she had gone too far, as James became sullen. "Well," he had told her with a bit of an edge to his voice, "Remus doesn't date. Not ever, not anyone."

She had risen and moved to sit on James' lap at that point. She had looked him directly in the eye and said, "I don't care. I have exactly the bloke I want right here."

So concerned she had been with bolstering James' ego and snogging him senseless, that she had moved on entirely from his words and had never given them another thought. She couldn't help but recall them now, however. _Remus doesn't date. Not ever, not anyone._

Should she ask? Finally? It had to be something he didn't want to talk about, a big secret. But she also wanted him to know that she knew, and that he could trust her. Like he had done for her about Snape.

"Remus…" she started and almost faltered when he looked at her, then pushed on, "may I ask you about something…private?"

He seemed mildly taken off guard, but nodded.

Lily was suddenly very aware of the silence surrounding them, the echo their voices would create. She and Remus had heard Hestia and Brian halfway down the hall. She didn't want to be so exposed.

"_Muffliato_," she said.

Remus raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. "I'm going to want to sit down for this, aren't I?"

She smiled wanly, and he sat in a desk near hers.

"There's no delicate way to ask this question so I'm just going to blurt it." She chewed her lip while she waited for his nod. "Are you a werewolf?"

Remus didn't seem particularly surprised by her question, but that didn't mean he was any less uncomfortable.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said coldly.

Lily shook her head. "It doesn't really matter to me either way. That's not why I'm asking."

Part of her was in slight awe. She was right, she could see it etched in his face. It was one thing to think it, but it was another altogether to have it confirmed. She felt more disconcerted than she thought she would be, and there was a thrill of fear squirming in her stomach. But she wouldn't show it.

"James didn't tell me," she gathered her wits to say. She hesitated before adding, "But I won't say that being close to him and observing his habits hasn't helped lead me to my conclusion."

Remus had averted his eyes. "Dumbledore already knows, so reporting this to him won't do anything."

"I figured he would have to. And I wouldn't report it even if he didn't." As she said the words, however, she wondered just how true they were. After all, she had wasted little time in informing Dumbledore about Severus' Dark Mark. But this was different, she told herself. Remus' secret didn't mean he was planning to harm anyone.

Then again, a werewolf didn't really need a plan.

She shook herself. She was better than this, more open minded than this—and to the best of her knowledge Remus had never hurt anyone. There were no reports of werewolf sightings or attacks in the area, and that in and of itself was proof that Remus actively worked to keep away from people when he transformed.

And that made him quite the opposite of Severus.

The quiet stretched long and heavy between them before Remus sighed. "To tell you the truth, I'm surprised more people haven't figured it out. I'm sick every full moon, and I'm positively covered in scars."

Lily smiled guiltily. "Actually, I didn't figure it out all on my own."

Remus finally met her eyes.

"Severus," she elaborated. "He told me his theory two years ago, and then the story of how he saw you in a tunnel under the Whomping Willow. I didn't believe him at the time. I thought for certain that you lot had played an intricate prank on him to make him look a fool. You were so calm and passive. The idea that you were a werewolf seemed absurd, and…I just couldn't imagine Dumbledore allowing such a thing."

She took a slow, shaky breath, and blew it out. "But then I got to know Dumbledore better. And I started dating James. For the first time I was actually interested in the four of you, where you went, what you did. It didn't take long to realize that the evidence matched up with Severus' theory."

"He's a sly one, that's for certain." His tone was bitter. Then he added, "It wasn't a prank, or, at least, I wasn't in on it. Sirius thought it would be funny."

Lily swallowed, uncomfortable. She didn't like what she was hearing in Remus' voice, but she couldn't say that she disagreed. "He does…have an inappropriate sense of humor."

Remus snorted grimly. "You have no idea. My secret, my future, all out there blowing in the wind. The scent of Snape's flesh burned into my nostrils, the sound of his heartbeat calling to me all the way down the tunnel." He sneered. "But it was _funny_."

He raked both hands through his hair, his eyes fixed sightlessly on the floor. "Thank God for James. If he hadn't figured out what was happening and gone to stop it…." He looked up at Lily. "He was sick as a dog that night, James was. We had ditched him in the Hospital Wing earlier because he wouldn't stop puking. Apparently something Peter had said earlier clicked, and James…got out of bed, walked across the grounds to the Willow, wrestled Snape out of the tunnel, cast a Slicing Jinx my way, and took a branch as thick as a troll's club to the face."

"Oh my God," Lily breathed.

Remus nodded. "He still has the scar, on his scalp, under his hair. And," he said as he un-tucked his shirt and raised it along with his jumper, "I still have the scar from his Slicing Jinx."

Lily gasped. The scar was wide, and white, and ran the length of his entire torso.

"Yeah," Remus said. "You don't want to be on the receiving end of one of James' Slicing Jinxes."

"How did…? You must have lost a lot of blood."

Remus nodded in assent as he lowered his shirt and jumper. "Madam Pomfrey put me right. I was weak for a spell, but I lived."

"But James…d-do you…?"

"I don't hold it against him. That jinx saved my life." Then, inexplicably, his mouth curved into a genuine smile. "He about fainted when they brought me up to the Hospital Wing, though. He's a bit squeamish about blood, whether he'll admit it or not."

Lily smiled thinly, though she couldn't see what was so amusing. Just picturing the scene had her stomach churning.

"He sat with me," Remus said softly. "All night. No matter what I…" he trailed off. "No matter what. Even when I puked on him."

At that Lily did smile. "Yes, he does seem to have an unusually high tolerance for vomit, doesn't he?"

It took Remus a moment, but then he smiled, too. "I'd forgotten about that. Brilliant move, by the by—if you had been anyone other than Lily Evans, that wouldn't have gone over at all."

With that comment, Lily's smile became artificial. She very much doubted Remus' assessment—it didn't fit at all with the experiences she had been having with James. Being _Lily Evans_ was holding her back if anything. She was reminded of Pilar's words on that November day, words that seemed so distant, it was as if they belonged to another lifetime. James had defined expectations of who she was and what it would be like to be in a relationship with her. Expectations she could never hope to live up to, because the girl they idealized wasn't real. She was Lily, just Lily, and nothing more.

And she was angry.

She had forgotten she was angry. Since the news of the ambassador's death, she hadn't thought twice about her conversation with Melody and the bitter truths that had come of it. After all, a few snide comments made by a couple of immature boys seemed trivial in face of death and war.

By the same token, however, their comments were unacceptable. She could not and would not let them slide. James would be getting a piece of her mind when she finished patrol tonight.

"Never had a friend quite like James," Remus was saying, interrupting her thoughts. "He's the best mate I could ever ask for, and far better than I deserve."

* * *

Severus still could not move. At least, not properly. His muscles felt tight and stiff, and any attempt at movement was absurdly painful. Today would easily go down as one of the worst of his life.

For Merlin's sake, could nothing go right?

Even his Potions project was going all to hell. Potion making was supposed to be his love, his haven, his constant. And yet, the slightest intrusion of Potter had shown just what a fragile peace that was.

His mission for the Dark Lord was sufficiently less of a joy, and that sentiment increased by the moment. The Fanged Cherub Root that Lucius had procured for him rotted while Severus had been working out the technicalities of the brew. He couldn't help it if the concoction was so illegal that all refined copies of the recipe had been destroyed. There were only the notes on the rough brews of Price Wyndham to go on and Severus was having to tweak as he went. He had no idea why the Dark Lord had initially given this assignment to a dunderhead like Dexter Pucey. Half of the work Severus had completed consisted of revising Pucey's arithmetic. Had he attempted a brew from Pucey's notes, the cauldron would have exploded by the third day.

This delay meant that he had to write to Lucius for more Fanged Cherub Root. Such a letter, he knew, would not go over well. Neither his friend nor the Dark Lord could appreciate the time and skill that went into a potion like this one. Regulus had been assigned to assist him through the process, but Severus could do better on his own. The boy's impulsiveness was undermining the stealth of entire venture, and both Rosier and Lestrange had started snooping about. Better the two of them than Dumbledore, but not by much. The insufferable oafs would do anything in their power to undercut him for the Dark Lord's favor, clamoring as they were for a Mark like his.

Truth told, however, Severus wished a disaster of a Potions project and mission for his master going the same way was all he had on his mind. That would certainly simplify. If there was anything in his life that stood to get him killed or make him kill, it was Lily.

The tart. The sight of her clinging to that berk was forever burned into his brain. Severus would never forget the way her hands had seized Potter's hair, the way her legs had clamped themselves about his waist, the way she had kissed him as though it were a need. Knowing that Lily lusted after James Potter was bad enough, being smacked in the face with it was quite unnecessary. Clearly, the two were shagging at every opportunity, even if that opportunity presented itself in the school library where any student could happen by. It was simply Severus' luck that he had been the student in question.

Severus was so enraged by the memory that he couldn't even bring himself to care that Lily had been crying. She should cry, and she would. If there was any kind of justice, then Lily would cry often.

Fortune seemed to be swinging in that direction, he noted with a grimace. Today had offered one piece of solace and one only: Potter meant to end his relationship with Lily. Though Severus was appalled by Potter's presumption and foolishness, he could only concede that getting thrown over was precisely what the bitch ought to get, and that Potter had never deserved her at all.

His lip curled involuntarily at the thought. Yes, he hoped that she hurt. He hoped that this foray into dating prats was repaid ten-fold in humiliation and misery. That would ensure that she'd never go back.

* * *

Lily's feet ached. Patrol had seemed to stretch on forever, which was understandable considering the events of the day and that she and Remus had thoroughly dawdled.

Their private conversation in the classroom aside, it had been a bit of a slow night. They had chased Hestia and Brian back to their dormitories, and had carried Maggie up to hers. Much to their chagrin, they had found Sirius' ex well and truly smashed in the trophy room. Lily had taken points from Ravenclaw, and the girl had sworn at them. Unable to walk as she was, Remus and Lily had carried Maggie all the way up to Ravenclaw Tower and handed her off to Keagan Cornfoot. She had called Lily a slag the entire way, and Lily thought she would just as well never be in the same room with Maggie Bagnold ever again.

Afterward, Remus had taken her to the kitchens for some hot chocolate to pick up her spirits. Lily had never been there before, and Remus had entertained her with funny stories about his adventures with his friends.

Honestly, the primary reason she had taken so much time was that she was dreading the confrontation to come with James. It was so unfair that today of all days would be the one she rediscovered his inner git. She was frightened and weary—the war, Death Eaters, and the mortality of everyone she loved were at the forefront of her mind. She wanted to be held and comforted. She wanted James to make love to her and tell her they were all going to make it through unscathed. But she couldn't have what she wanted, because James had said such vile things about her. Instead of being a haven in the storm, he had become part of the downpour.

With a deep breath, Lily offered up the password to the fairy portrait and waited as it swung open. She had hoped James would have gone to bed already, thus enabling Lily to have a good night's sleep before this talk. But, of course, he has awake and waiting for her.

She hesitated before proceeding through the portrait hole, bracing herself and straightening her spine.

"That was hell of a patrol," James said. "You're three hours later than usual."

Lily didn't like his tone. "Remus and I got to talking."

That clearly wasn't the answer James had been expecting and he looked at her oddly. "I see."

"James," Lily said, and she registered that he flinched at the sound of his name, "we need to talk."

"Yes," he agreed. "Yes, we do." He was scowling as though he had his own axe to grind, but Lily would not let herself be derailed.

"Melody told me what you said."

"I say lots of things."

Lily sighed. "Yes, you do. But this particular comment was about a Knut bin."

Quiet filled the room. Lily had expected James to explain, apologize, even to try to defend himself, but he merely nodded. Her fingers clenched into fists, as he continued to gaze at her coldly. She refused to speak first—he _would_ account for himself.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You slept with Snape. If that doesn't qualify someone for the Knut bin, then I don't know what does."

Lily felt as though she had been slapped.

James rose from his seat on the sofa. "But that's not really the issue here, is it? We both know that this isn't going anywhere. I was your big rebound, and you used me to scratch a few itches that you had. It was fun, but honestly, not what I'd hoped."

He was so calm, so matter-of-fact. Lily's stomach began to clench tight.

"That's not fair, James. We both know that this is more than that."

James actually smiled, but it was an ugly thing, cold and patronizing. "Oh, I'm not a glorified sex toy, then?"

"No," she was shaking her head. "Of course you're not."

"No?" He raised a brow. "Oh, that's right. I'm _James_."

She winced.

"See," he said. "You know it, and I know it. This was just about sex, and the sex is getting old. I just don't have the appetite for it anymore."

"You…you're a bastard," she hissed, and she noted a hint of surprise in her voice. Ironic, considering she had gone into this relationship assuming as much.

James seemed to find the humor in that as well. "Well, you already knew that, didn't you? Fact is, I doubt I would know such a detail about myself if I hadn't had you pointing it out every day for six years." He removed his necktie and tossed it onto a nearby chair. "Now, _my_ error was one of misjudgment, not forgetfulness. I went into this knowing exactly what I meant to you and what you wanted from me. I just thought, despite all that, you would be worth it. But you weren't."


	15. A Cold, Gray Sunday

**15**

**A Cold, Gray Sunday**

Lily slept. And slept. It was nearly eleven when she awoke the next morning, and even then, she pretended to herself that she was still sleeping. This was a day that she did not want to begin.

She took a very long, very hot shower. It didn't seem to help much, however, and eventually she turned off the water. What can she have been thinking, falling in love with a heartless, immature, prat like James Potter? What had made her think he had grown or changed in the slightest? The truth was that he had been a mean-spirited prick then, and he was a mean-spirited prick now.

Lily felt exhausted even though she had just risen. She was wrought emotionally in a way that she hadn't been in years. It was Severus all over again. It seemed that such was the way with boys: they led you on with all their goodness, all their potential, but in the end, they always chose the way of the bastard. She shouldn't have been shocked, and yet she most certainly had been. With James, her blunder had been the belief that there was no way that she would become attached. He was _supposed_ to be a mistake, a silly little fling that she could look back on as a good time with a lot of laughs and no strings. Her heart had taken her completely by surprise. Lily had fallen harder and gotten in deeper than she had even been aware was possible. Now she had to deal with a heartbreak so devastating that the pain was physical, and seething anger directed both at James and at herself. After all, James may be a prat, but she'd brought the whole thing on herself.

What was done was done, however. She had cried herself to sleep the night before, and that was enough. She promised herself that there would be no more tears shed over James Potter.

Lily stood dripping in her towel, staring at her bedroom. It was…clean. Far too clean. She had tidied it the day before she and James had slept together for the first time, and she had all but moved into his rooms shortly afterward.

Lily wasn't against cleanliness as a rule, she just wasn't fanatical about having it in her living space. Clutter announced a human presence; clutter was what made a dormitory a home. The distinct lack of it was a slap in the face chiding her for abandoning her rooms…her independence. It made her feel ill.

With a deep breath, she set to work. First she threw on a pair of tatty jeans and an oversized jumper. Then she set about making a mess. Nothing too elaborate, just enough to erase the evidence that the room had been all but abandoned for months.

It was during this process that she became aware of James' cat, snoozing regally on her desk chair.

This was some kind of cosmic, sick joke—it had to be. She didn't even like cats! Why should this one like her so much? Why should it treat her bedroom as its own? This…this feline was just another front of the grand invasion of James Potter into her life. Merlin, had she actually asked for this?

Lily scooped up Pumpkin and carried her to the door. She mewed her displeasure at being disturbed in her nap, but Lily ignored her. The damned cat was just going to have to learn that she couldn't sleep in here anymore.

Lily opened the door and made to drop Pumpkin outside it, but she froze when saw a basket sitting there. A basket filled with everything she had left in James' dormitory. From toothbrush to kneesocks, spare quills to stray earrings, it was all there, staring her in the face. On the top of the pile, both of her Indian monkey combs reflected the light of the chandelier.

Oh, God.

Heather Tillney and Junie Harmer both had regaled her with anecdotes of how quickly James got a move on after he chucked a girl, but she hadn't expected this.

She dropped his cat on the landing and lifted the basket into her arms with deliberation. As she shut the door, she found herself blinking back tears.

Damn James Potter to hell. She absolutely _would not cry_. Impulsively, she threw the basket none too gently on her bed and watched as the contents scattered themselves, many falling to the floor. Now she had made a mess in an obvious way, and she was fairly certain she had heard something break as it hit the floor, but she didn't care.

She yanked open the drawer of her bedside table, a drawer a saner person might have filled with reading material or mementoes from home. Lily filled it with sweets. It had been months since she had well and truly indulged her sweet-tooth, and she tore into her stash with gusto. She skipped right to the main event: the Cauldron Cakes, her favorite. She ate the whole box.

Keeping her vow not to shed any more tears shouldn't be so difficult. At least with Severus she'd had her friends. The fifth year girls' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower had become a veritable haven. But things were different now. She didn't feel nearly as close with Daphne and Mary as she had back then. Pilar was gone (not to mention that she had much more serious things to cry over than Lily's silly problems), and Melody…. If Lily were honest, she was still angry with Melody. In fact, she was more angry with Melody today than she had been yesterday. Yesterday, she had simply been irked at her friend's slippery tongue and big nose poking into that which was none of her business. Perhaps she had been frustrated over Melody's perpetual lack of tact as well. Melody just didn't _think_ before she acted.

Today, however, Lily's bitterness ran deeper. She certainly didn't want to commiserate over her broken heart with the one person who had actually pushed her toward James to begin with.

Lily reached her hand into the drawer again, and came away with a Chocolate Frog.

_The_ Chocolate Frog. It had to be—it was the only one in there.

James had given this blasted thing to her at the start of term, at the Welcome Feast. She had stashed it here for safe keeping and had yet to so much as break the seal on the packaging. Merlin, she was daft. James Potter gave her one little gift and she saved it like some pathetic, lovesick cow.

She rose from her seat on the bed and stalked over to her trash bin, where she summarily dropped the Chocolate Frog to its death. She thought about kicking the bin for good measure, but decided that would be a mite too childish.

Feeling satisfied with herself, Lily again plopped on her bed amid her scattered belongings. She reached for a Licorice Wand this time and set about nibbling on it. But her mind stayed with the Chocolate Frog.

She couldn't help but think that she was still being ridiculous. After all, she had just thrown away chocolate because James Potter had been the one who gave it to her. Maybe chucking it was not an inspired or empowered action at all. She was still allowing it to be special. It wasn't special, it wasn't significant. It was a goddamned Chocolate Frog, and it would only ever be a Chocolate Frog.

Lily tossed aside the Licorice Wand, and again walked to the trash bin. She fished out the frog, tore open the wrapping, and decapitated the thing before it could so much as wriggle.

She had taken her second bite before it dawned on her that her actions had gone from pathetic, to daft, to ridiculous, and back again. She was eating a Chocolate Frog that had been in a trash bin to prove a point to no one but herself. And for what? Why was she cloistered up here in her rooms eating sweets anyway? To avoid facing the rest of the school in the Great Hall where the real food was served? How had it come to this? There was no excuse for her behavior. She was a Gryffindor, damn it. She ought to have some brass.

With that, the Chocolate Frog was pitched into the bin again, and Lily reached for her cloak. Hogwarts could gossip however they liked, she was going to get herself some beef and potatoes.

The corridors were largely empty as everyone was down in the Great Hall having lunch. That should have made her feel better, but it didn't. She wanted to face the whispers and looks now, so the journey felt like a march to a firing squad. She was so eager to have it over with that she didn't even hesitate when she reached the heavy doors.

She ignored the chatter that lagged as she walked by, and sat at the end of Gryffindor table without making eye-contact with anyone. This wasn't about fear of her classmates—her chin was high. Lily dreaded the sight of one person and one person only: James. She didn't let her eyes stray because she didn't even want to know if he was there.

She loaded up her plate and began to shovel potatoes into her mouth. It was heaven—real food. She felt her stomach stop churning after only a few bites, and sighed her pleasure.

Her happiness was short-lived, however. Someone sat in the seat directly across from her and cleared her throat.

Melody's face was positively stormy. "I heard Miguel came to get Pilar and Marisol yesterday. You packed their things and you never told me what had happened."

Lily was momentarily taken aback. "Pilar asked me not to."

"That matters?"

"Yes," Lily said firmly.

"My adopted family just pulled up stakes and moved to Spain and I didn't even get to say goodbye."

Lily's jaw tightened a bit. "You weren't too keen on talking to Pilar before her dad was murdered."

"Don't change the subject, Lily," Melody snapped. "What's wrong with you? I had a right to know."

"Pilar asked me not to," Lily repeated. "She didn't want to see you."

Melody looked momentarily stunned, and it took Lily a moment to register that what she had said, while true, was really quite mean. It also struck her that she didn't really seem to care if Melody's feelings were hurt. She must be angrier at her friend than she thought.

There was a beat before Melody rose slowly and walked away. Lily finished her meal in peace.

As she exited the Great Hall, it occurred to her that the last thing she wanted to do right now was go back up to her rooms. She wanted some air. So, she tugged her cloak closed, and walked out onto the grounds.

She wandered aimlessly at first: circumventing the greenhouses, strolling along the edge of the forest, then finally looping around the lake. The snow crunched and slid beneath her feet. It was an especially chilly day, and she wasn't quite dressed appropriately, but that didn't stop her. She was actually enjoying the bite of the air against her face.

Lily sat on an old bench near the lake, and sighed. It was so serene, so still.

Without warning, she felt a body plop on the bench beside hers. She jumped in alarm as she took in the figure of Sirius Black. He was swaddled in a cloak, gloves, and scarf, and his overgrown hair was hanging loose rather than pulled back as usual. There was a distinct odor of alcohol about him, and, sure enough, there was an open, long-necked and unmarked bottle in his hand.

"So," he said, leaning toward her conspiratorially, "what did _you_ do?"

Lily gaped at him for a few seconds before managing, "I'm sorry?"

"We've both been dumped by James now. I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours."

Her back straightened. "I've no interested in talking about it, especially with you."

She made to rise but he started speaking anyway. "_I_ called his girlfriend a cold, manipulative tart."

Lily froze. "If you hate me so much, why are you even talking to me?" she snapped.

"Me? Oh, well, I'm drunk. And that excuse works for anything."

She raised a brow at him.

He gave an exaggerated expression of astonishment. "Miss Evans, have you _never_ been so pissed that you can't be held accountable for your actions?"

"No," and when he held out his bottle to her she added hastily, "nor do I wish to be."

He shrugged.

Lily moved to stand again, but he threw an arm over her shoulders.

"So, back to my story: I said, 'James, my good fellow, you are sullying yourself with this harlot and neglecting your sworn brothers.' To which he replied, 'To hell with you lot, I've been sniffing after this Evans trim for years. I'm going to fuck her every chance I get, and when she's not around I'm going to be crotchety and as passive aggressive as your bloody mother.' This horrified me, and I cried, 'Nay, my brother, acting in any way like my mother breaks the sacred compact that no one with whom I associate should ever, at any time, for any reason, act like my mother.' But James did laugh evilly and said, 'I'm a fucking cunt and I don't care.' So I said, 'Yeah, well, your girlfriend snogged Snape.' And he just hit me—the wanker. Can you believe that?"

Lily's back was ramrod stiff. Clearly he thought he was being funny, but she was not amused. She couldn't believe that she had ever felt sorry for him.

"Are you finished?"

He grinned. "Well love, that was the short version. The long version is far more entertaining, but you're a prig and I didn't think you'd sit still for it."

"Trust your instincts."

"You want to leave don't you?"

"Yes, very much." She shrugged his arm off her shoulders and stood.

"Pity. I could tell you anything you ever wanted to know about James. I could tell you why he dumped you."

Lily sniffed derisively and began walking. "I already know why he dumped me."

"Prove it."

That stopped her in her tracks. She turned to face him. "What did you say?"

"I said prove it. Tell me why you think James chucked you, and I'll tell you if you're right." He was enjoying himself far too much.

"I'm not playing this game with you."

"Why not? You want to." He raised his brows and smirked in a way that could only be described as obnoxious. "Do you always hold back from doing what you want?"

"Of course not!" That, as she recalled, was what had got her into this mess in the first place.

"Then sit with me and have a drink." He held the bottle out to her again.

Lily couldn't figure out what game he was playing. He didn't like her—he never had. Why did he want to talk to her? Share liquor and secrets with her?

"What's in it for you?"

He scoffed. "Besides the pleasure of your always charming company?"

Lily cocked a brow.

"It'll drive James mad," he admitted. "Especially if we look cozy to the outside observer. A Galleon says he hits me again."

She blinked at him a moment. "You…_want_ James to hit you again?"

"I wouldn't hate it." Sirius shrugged.

Lily had always known that Black was odd, perhaps even a bit damaged. But was he really nothing so much as a child acting out for attention?

"Besides," he said, "who else are you going to talk to? I notice you're out here alone."

"Maybe I don't want to talk to anyone about this. Maybe I want to be alone with my thoughts."

Sirius was already shaking his head before she finished. "No. No, you're like me."

"Excuse me?" Lily snapped.

"You don't like to be alone. Especially if it's with your thoughts."

It took a moment, but on reflection Lily had to admit that he just might be right. _That_ was disconcerting.

He motioned his head in the direction of the seat next to him.

Lily hesitated. "Do you really think James will care?"

"It will ruin his week, love."

She cracked a smile. _What the hell. Why not?_ She sat beside Sirius, taking care to be sure they weren't actually touching.

"So?" he prompted.

"Yes?"

"Don't get cute. Spill. You sat, so spill."

She wrinkled her nose. "As near as I can tell," she paused to sigh, "James chucked me because I lost my virginity to Severus."

His face screwed up in an expression of revulsion. "That's foul!"

"I thought you already knew about that."

"About the snogging—not the shagging. I could've lived forever without knowing about the shagging."

Lily snapped, "You asked, you prick. If you're going to give me a hard time about it, you can bugger off. I already feel wretched enough, all things considered."

Sirius seemed to study her for a moment. Then he surprised her by shrugging affably. "I've fucked fouler."

She glared at him, doubting his sincerity, but he just smiled and held the bottle out to her again. This time she took it.

She tested its weight in her hands. The glass was warm where Sirius' hand had gripped bottle. There was no label.

"What is it?"

"Carombrandy," Sirius said. "James' favorite. I'm being sentimental." He said this almost as though he were proud of himself.

Lily sniffed at the bottle's opening experimentally. "He was going to get some for me to try months ago, but he never did."

"That bastard," Sirius tutted. "All right girly, are you going to drink it or Scarpin it?"

Lily made a face at him, then took a sip. It burned going down, but not as intensely as Firewhiskey. The taste had bite, and as soon as the liquid reached her stomach, she knew how it had derived its name. A tingling sensation zing-zinged and ricocheted against the inner walls of her stomach. It was disconcerting at first, but then became oddly pleasant. She took another swig, and smiled when she felt the alcohol begin to spread warmth to her limbs.

"I like it," she told Sirius.

"That," he said, "does not surprise me. It's always been a bit of a nancy drink, if you ask me. Never could figure why Prongs liked it so much."

Lily squirmed in her seat a bit, realizing she should probably tell Sirius the whole truth. If he really did have insight to give her, it would help if he had all the facts.

"I don't think it was just the Severus bit that had him so in knots. He seemed to think I'd used him for sex."

Sirius stared at her incredulously for a long moment. Then he burst out laughing.

"I'm not kidding," she said, but that only made him laugh harder.

She rolled her eyes and took another drink, waiting for him to calm down. When he had nearly regained his composure, she confessed, "He wasn't wrong."

That sobered Sirius right up, though his smile didn't fade. "Well, I'll be a hippogriff's bitch. Why you wily, randy, little tart." He clutched his chest theatrically. "What—? What's this I feel growing inside of me? Could it be…respect?"

"Fuck off."

"No love, I'm serious. Good on you." He took the bottle from her, and toasted her. "Witch of a new world order, aren't you?"

Lily couldn't help but grin back as he offered her the bottle for her turn.

"Of course," he said, "that is my best mate you took advantage of, so I do have to call you a bitch."

Lily nodded. "Understood. But I did end up falling for him," she clarified.

"Pfft, of course you did. Prongs is irresistible! If I thought that you hadn't I would have challenged you to a duel by now. Matters of honor and all that."

"And I would have won."

Sirius was looking at her shrewdly. "It appears, Miss Evans, that I may had misjudged you. You are a lot more fun than you look."

"To be fair," she said as though she were telling a secret, "I think that might be because the alcohol is kicking in."

"Which means your judgment is getting poorer."

Lily giggled as she swallowed another mouthful of the mystical brandy. "Not that poor. Never that poor."

"You flatter me, madam. But no, I had something far more immature and…non-sexual in mind."

She raised a brow at him. "And what would that be?"

Sirius held the bottle of Carombrandy up to the light to ascertain just how much was left. "Finish the bottle off first, love. I'm going to need you good and pissed for this."

* * *

James was learning that a hangover achieved with friends during a bender of debauchery was quite different than one earned in self-hatred and solitude. He hadn't thought it possible, but the latter felt at least twice as lousy. Drinking alone brought no pleasure and no numbness. It just made him really contemplative, and that was precisely what he had been trying to avoid. As it was, he found himself uncomfortably self-aware at the moment.

There was no sugar-coating it: James had gone wrong somewhere. Or maybe it was everywhere. Was it when he tossed Latchford off the team? When he hit Sirius? Or was it before then? Did it go so far back as chucking Alida? It was entirely possible that he had set himself on a path of ruination from the start this term. The Head Boy pressures, Quidditch Captain duties, McGonagall's special projects, his mates' thirst for exhilaration, and Lily—was it all too much to balance? He was just one bloke after all, and everyone expected such different things of him. His parents were always content with whatever he chose to do, their adoration utterly unconditional, but that had set a dangerous precedent. James had gone into this growing up business thinking that everyone would be so easy to please. But that just wasn't the case—least of all with himself.

The simple reality was that he had made a mess, and this morning he felt as though he had taken a Beater bat to the gullet.

What's worse, everyone seemed to know. Didn't these people have lives of their own to talk about? Goddamn it, sometimes he hated this bloody school. If he hadn't known better, he would think Lily was zipping about crowing to people how he'd thrown her over.

She wasn't heartbroken at any rate, if gossip served. He'd had it from Ferris Jessup that Lily had eaten her weight in mashed potatoes at lunch—Lily never ate when she was upset. She just fidgeted and pushed her food around her plate.

That thought alone was enough to make him want punch a wall. James had known that Lily didn't love him, that she was only in it for the sex, but the proof of it was like a press on his chest. Couldn't the bitch at least put on a show for his benefit? As it was, the entire school knew that she hadn't shed so much as a tear.

To hell with her.

There were other girls in this godforsaken castle, and as soon as his queasy, alcohol-sodden stomach could handle the thought of kissing one of them, he would be doing just that.

In the meantime, he needed his mates. He needed…Sirius. Padfoot had been right all along about Lily: she was overrated in every respect, she had made a fool of him, and she had a heart only a greasy Slytherin could melt. And her tits _were_ small. James thought he could endure the "I told you so" if it meant things going back to the way they were. He'd even stick his neck out to smooth things over between Remus and Sirius. James just wanted to be a bunch of boys again.

The winding stairs up to the boys' dormitories in Gryffindor Tower were a bit more complicated in his current state than he would like. He must have imbibed a tad more than he'd originally thought. When he finally reached the door, he celebrated by knocking. It wasn't until Davy fucking Gudgeon had opened the door that James realized how daft that was. He had never knocked on that bloody door before in his life. Doing so was as unnatural as ringing the bell at the door to his own home. Davy certainly seemed to regard the knock as the thoroughly ludicrous thing it was, if the way he was looking at James were any indication.

"I'm hungover," he snapped in his defense.

Davy's brows rose and he stepped aside.

James entered and slammed the door shut behind him. He took stock of the room and noted that Remus and Peter were standing at one of the windows, now gazing at James in alarm. His best mate, however, was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Sirius?" he demanded.

Neither Moony nor Wormtail said anything, but Peter stepped back from the window and gestured that James should look.

James did. It took him a moment to piece together just what he was seeing: Lily and Sirius sitting side by side on a bench out in the snow, passing a bottle back and forth between them.

"I-I'm sorry, James," that wanker Peter said.

"For what?" It was a challenge. A cantankerous, mine-field laden challenge that no one accepted. James knew what it looked like, but he defied anyone in this room to declare what it looked like was what it was.

Lily didn't even like Sirius. And not the way she "didn't like" James, either. There was genuine distaste there. James had been skeptical at first, but every time he tested those waters, the results had been the same. Sirius may be able to charm every other girl living (and some dead), but he couldn't charm Lily. As James recalled, it was Remus he had to keep an eye on (four hour patrols indeed).

As for the other party involved, Sirius would never do that to him. Never.

"It's a good thing you're here, James," Remus said, pointedly drawing his attention. "Dumbledore sent this for you." He held out a sealed roll of parchment to James.

James eyed it with distaste. He knew what that was. It was a "come to my office so I can strip you of that Head Boy badge you didn't deserve in the first place" note. His jaw tightened and he felt the rage rising in him again. And yet, he knew it was probably for the best. His Head Boy duties hadn't been completed in weeks, and he wasn't cut out for this role model rubbish at all. Who was he to set an example, enforce regulations? He cavalierly broke wizarding law every full moon, and there wasn't a school rule that was sacred in his eyes. He felt like a hypocrite every time he bawled out a third year for being about after curfew, or took points from some poor sod's House when he got caught smuggling Zonko's contraband into the school. And try as he might to be fair (though, he conceded, he probably hadn't given it everything he had), he still hated every bloody Slytherin in this damned place.

Fuck this Head Boy business. He was well shot of it.

His eyes drifted out the window where he was greeted by the site of his prim little Lily, who abhorred getting dirty, engaged in a heated and physical snowball fight with his traitorous best friend.

It was then that he decided the whole world could go to hell.

* * *

Alida stormed toward the dungeons with a letter clutched in one hand and a very old book in the other. She was fairly trembling with fury, and she was certain her face was red with it. She couldn't recall ever having felt this way before. Had the object of her rage been before her just now, she felt certain that she could have killed him. Literally. She had been told in Defense Against the Dark Arts that it took a fair amount of power and hatred for _Avada Kedavra_ to have its intended effect. For the first time in her life, she could honestly picture herself casting the curse. But she had a different plan—a much more cruel plan. Oh yes, if all went accordingly he would end up so broken and disfigured that he'd wish he was just dead.

As she descended the stairs, she checked the letter again. Dungeon six, the letter she had from Lucius said that Severus would be in dungeon six. And so he was.

Severus had taken nearly every table in the room for his project and there were at least thirteen cauldrons hanging over flames, each containing potions in varying stages of completion. He was near the back, standing at the smallest cauldron measuring ingredients.

She cleared her throat and he glanced up.

"Alida," he nodded. "Lucius owled me that you would be coming."

She nodded curtly. What Lucius had promised her was that Severus would help her with whatever she asked. She'd been given the full carte blanche, and she was determined to take advantage completely.

"You're certain that this room is secure?"

Severus' face twisted sardonically. "After my little mishap yesterday, I was given this room to myself. Slughorn has instructed me to keep the door locked and password-protected at all times."

Alida nodded and stepped toward him. With force, she placed the book she'd brought before him and opened it to the page she had marked.

"I want this one," she pointed to the potion detailed.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You realize that potion is highly illegal."

Alida sniffed. "And every other potion in here isn't? These are all poisons, are they not? And at least one of them has nothing to do with your Potions Master license at all." She was pointedly referring to the mission he'd been given by the Dark Lord.

Severus flinched.

"That was the deal I made with Lucius. I'll smuggle whatever ingredients you need for that particular potion into the castle—Dumbledore's not watching _me_. The trade is that you make this for me."

He still looked hesitant, but she lifted her chin defiantly.

Sighing, he studied the page. "I'm going to need Cornfoot's blood," he said after a long moment.

She nodded. "I'll get it."

* * *

James sat tense in Dumbledore's office. His stomach was roiling and he was starting to wonder if he would be sick.

It was impossible to know how much of that was general anxiety about facing one of the few authority figures in his life whose opinion he actually valued, and how much was the hangover he still felt coming on. He had taken a potion to sober up before heading here, but it wasn't quite as effective as the label had advertised. Still, he felt mostly clear-headed, and as the alcohol retreated from his senses, so his anger sapped from him. He felt only shame. He was, after all, sitting in Dumbledore's office; nothing could have made his failure more apparent.

He had removed the Head Boy badge from his lapel, and was turning it over in his hands. Despite his better judgment, he had accepted it and all the responsibilities it represented. He had given this experiment a shot—perhaps not his best shot—but _a_ shot. It had seemed straightforward enough, but, clearly, he'd dropped the Quaffle.

Normally, James would have been able to sweep that under the rug: tell himself it didn't matter, or perhaps even give it all another go. He was rarely a big picture sort of person and his world was a small one. Until he set foot in this room.

Dumbledore's office was a thing apart, filled with blatant history, walls of portraits, wondrous gadgets, and the gravitas of the man who occupied it. It was a reminder that life had gone on long before him, and that it would continue long after he was nothing but bones. His little troubles now felt appallingly insignificant and silly. He was a man who had been wasting his time playing at still being a boy. In Dumbledore's office there were unjust laws, a bloody and frightening war, and a rising tyrant to fight. In Dumbledore's office the world was bigger, and thus James' failures felt proportionately larger as well.

James tensed when he heard the door open and close behind him. He rose to greet his Headmaster, and though they shook hands before being seated, they exchanged no pleasantries.

"Ah, yes," he said, eyeing the badge in James' hand. "That is why we're here, isn't it? To discuss whether or not you will be keeping that?"

James swallowed and nodded.

"Mr. Potter, your behavior has been…unorthodox of a Head Boy of late, if I do say so myself." When James said nothing, Dumbledore elaborated. "You have humiliated your House with your actions during a Quidditch match, your patrol rounds are spent in the kitchens more often than not and you mete out punishments and rewards according to your biases. Your duties have been neglected for almost a month and your marks have fallen to an unacceptable average. You have done physical harm to another student—your best friend, of all people. And your conduct with Miss Evans has become a problem."

James squirmed in his seat, unable to meet the Headmaster's eyes. He could not deny any of the charges, but there was one that nobody had to worry about anymore. "Lily and I…we're not…."

At this, Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I heard that sad news," he smiled at James not unkindly. "But that does not mean that what I'm about to say can go unsaid. I am not a fool. I know what you and Miss Evans have been up to in your dormitories. Since you are both of age and hardly the first Head Boy and Girl to take advantage of the privacy afforded to you by your separate dormitories, it was scarcely worth mentioning. What I take issue with is flaunting this intimacy outside of your dormitories. This is a school, a place of learning. You and Miss Evans have been asked to perform many tasks, but the most important is that you serve as a an example of excellence and sober judgment. The library is not a bedchamber, Mr. Potter."

James swallowed and nodded, doing his best to appear contrite, but inwardly he couldn't suppress his bitterness toward Snape for having reported him.

"I have had accounts from three different students of you and the Head Girl in the Magical Creatures section Friday night."

With that James' stomach drooped. Of course. The library was a place for all students and he and Lily had had their near-sex experience before curfew. It had been ludicrous to think that Snape had been the only one to see it.

"None of this," Dumbledore went on, "even begins to compare with your appalling conduct in the infirmary yesterday, however."

Before this, Dumbledore's voice had been almost neutral, letting the words stand on their own in letting James know how he felt. Here, on the other hand, James could tell that Dumbledore wasn't just disappointed—he was furious.

"You will apologize to Mr. Snape personally, and you will serve detention with Madam Pomfrey every Saturday, all day, until the end of March."

Under normal circumstances, James might have objected. He would rather roll around in dragon piss than apologize to Snape, and every Saturday for four months was a lot of detention—probably more than he deserved for this particular offence, truth told. But today James was sick at the thought of himself and everything he had done, and the four months of detention was probably as much a reward for his behavior in general as punishment for this one incident. As for the apology, James might prefer the dragon piss, but he could manage telling Snape he was sorry. It wouldn't be easy, but he could manage it.

There was a stretch of silence in the room, as though Dumbledore was waiting for a response, so James swallowed his pride and told Dumbledore he would do both, gladly.

The headmaster nodded. Then he opened up his desk drawer. "You and young Mr. Snape have a lot in common."

James startled at this. For one mad moment he thought Dumbledore was referring to Lily, and marveled at the man's ingenuity for knowing in the first place, and his audacity for bringing it up. But then Dumbledore found what he was looking for in the drawer and placed it on the desk between them. It was a prefect's badge, a Slytherin one.

"In all my years as headmaster, I have never had to rescind the honor of a badge mid-term. So far, I have already had to do it once this year."

James remembered chuckling over the notice that Severus Snape was no longer a prefect, and he had grinned himself silly at the meeting when he and Lily had announced the news to the other perfects. He felt his face heat at the thought that Lily would soon have the same pleasure regarding him.

"Do you know why I named you Head Boy?"

James considered that for a moment, casting about for an explanation that made sense, but the truth was that this question had haunted him since the morning he had opened his unusually heavy Hogwarts letter. His parents had been thrilled; James had felt only dismay. His response had been anticipated as there had been a note from Dumbledore assuring him that no mistake had been made. That the badge had been bestowed on him _deliberately_ was a reality that James had slowly accepted, but based on what credentials and to what end, he could not begin to fathom.

The badge now felt warm and slippery from the sweat of his palm. "No, sir. No, I do not."

"I chose you, Mr. Potter, because I did not have much in the way of options."

That was far from the answer James had been expecting, and he found himself laughing a little nervously. "I hate to tell you this, sir, but the giant squid would have been a safer bet than me." He tossed his badge onto Dumbledore's desk and wiped his palms dry on his trousers. "And that's just not true. You had plenty of options—any one of your prefects would have done a fine job."

"Is that so?" Dumbledore looked pointedly at the Slytherin badge.

"Well, not Snape obviously. But no one loves rules the way Pye does, Hawkins could tutor a troll to pass the O.W.L.s, and Remus is the most level-headed person I know. Any one of them would have been a hell of a Head Boy."

"And if we weren't at war, I would agree with you readily. But there is something you are, James, that none of those boys could ever hope to be: a leader."

James scoffed. He couldn't help it. Then he realized that he'd just made a very rude noise to his headmaster. "That is to say, I'm a troublemaker. A leader of troublemakers—and they don't even listen to me half the time." He gestured to the badge, "This…I'm not cut out for this."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Not long ago, I would have agreed with you. I certainly thought better of giving you authority and responsibility when I selected my prefects. But then something happened at the end of your fifth year. What was that?"

"You know very well what happened," James said, suddenly stiff.

"I know what happened at the Whomping Willow, true. It was a near miss, for you, for your friends, and for young Mr. Snape. But no one was hurt. One would think things would return to business as usual."

"Remus was hurt," James snapped.

Dumbledore nodded, "Ah yes, your Slicing Jinx."

James paled a bit. He didn't like thinking about that. "That's not what I meant. He…it was bad."

"That wasn't your fault. The prank wasn't your idea."

"But Sirius never would have done it if I had told him not to. He…just doesn't think sometimes, about consequences. It was a stupid idea—every part of it was stupid. And it could have ruined everything, it could have hurt everyone Sirius loves, and that thought never occurred to him. Someone has to think about that stuff."

"And Severus?"

James felt an energy building in him. He wanted to be standing, pacing. He ran his fingers through his hair instead. "What about Snape? I hate him."

"So it would have been acceptable if Severus was hurt so long as your friends were not."

"Of course not!"

"Why not?"

"Because no matter how slimy a git is, no one deserves to be mauled by a werewolf."

"So the safety of every student in this castle is important?"

"Of course!"

"And you would place yourself between any student and any threat, no matter how you felt about either?"

"Yes!"

Dumbledore sat back, satisfied. Suddenly, James realized he'd been baited, led.

"That's why you're Head Boy," Dumbledore said.

James deflated. "You decided to pick me for Head Boy based on something I did a year and a half ago?"

"Of course not." Dumbledore smiled as though something was actually funny. "But it did get my attention. I realized that whatever sort of boy you were, you were going to be a very different sort of man."

James looked down. _Oh hell_. He had failed Dumbledore even worse than he had thought.

"Which is why I found your behavior yesterday so troubling."

James closed his eyes.

"I will do for you what I did for Severus Snape: I will offer you a choice. You may keep your present course, but that will mean you leave your badge with me. Or you may take the badge with you."

The second qualifier didn't need to be spoken. James understood loud and clear.

James sat, not meeting Dumbledore's eyes, because he was having trouble disposing his body to move. But really, there was only one thing he could do, and, after a minute, he summoned the will to do it. He stood, reached out, and lifted the badge from the desk.


	16. Shopping in Hogsmeade

**16**

**Shopping in Hogsmeade**

_My Darling Jamie,_

_Your father and I are looking forward to seeing you for Christmas; I'm counting down the days to your arrival with more excitement than for the day itself. Of course you may bring Remus with you! I will air out a guest room. _

_We had hoped to meet your new girl, but I expect you'll bring her round come spring. Your father and I are quite curious as Sirius' letters have been colorful on this subject. I assure you that we do not believe a word of the slander (though the tales of her alleged broom burning and puppy eating have been rather entertaining). If this Evans girl is special enough to have held your interest for four years, I'm sure that she must be lovely. _

_Try not to be so hard on Sirius; he's just having a difficult time sharing you. I know that things have been rocky between the two of you this year, and I wish that you would forgive him. He says that you hit him and asked us to send him sweets as reparation. He did not tell us why you hit him, though knowing Sirius, he likely earned it. We sent the sweets nonetheless. His life has never been easy and we are his family now. Be kind to him, and if you can bear it, please reconcile with him before the Holiday. Christmas won't be the same without him. _

_Professor Dumbledore wrote to apprise us that you were having certain troubles with your Head Boy duties. Your father met with the Board of Governors and he thinks it unlikely that you will lose your badge. _

_I am enclosing a package of your favorite, Chocolate Frogs. Should you need anything at all, darling, just write. _

_All my love,_

_Mother_

James had a rueful smile on his face as he finished reading the letter. His parents were such strange, predictable creatures. Mother's philosophy was to believe well of everyone. Father's philosophy was to throw money at problems until they went away. The letter didn't say it, but James knew that a bribe had been an essential part of that meeting with the Board of Governors. That let James off the proverbial hook. Doubtless he could carry on with whatever behavior he wished and Dumbledore would not be able to strip him of his badge. But that was not the route James wished to take.

He had voluntarily taken the badge back and he aimed to earn it, not buy it.

And bully for Sirius. The mongrel certainly didn't waste time. He'd managed to get James' mother to plead his case and send him sweets. Moreover, it seemed he'd written numerous letters defaming Lily to his parents, and yet had no qualms about sidling up to her the moment James had cleared off. The hypocrite. The only reason he could guess at for such behavior was to ruffle James' feathers. The only appropriate response was to appear as unruffled as possible, and so far James had more or less succeeded.

All in all, however, it was a rather ingenious plan on Sirius' part. James might be keeping his cool outwardly, but he had to admit that inwardly he'd had occasion to gnash is teeth over this. After all, it had been days—a week actually—and Sirius was still following Lily around. He couldn't possibly be enjoying her company, and this was way too far to take a silly lark. It just…wasn't funny anymore.

James didn't know whether to clap Sirius on the back, or sucker-punch him in the face.

He scanned the letter once more before crumbling it and tossing it idly into a bin. He knew that he should write back to tell his parents that he wouldn't be bringing Lily round come spring or ever, but he didn't pick up his quill. His mother would positively fuss over him, and James didn't have the stomach for that just now. He'd write her after he did his Christmas shopping in Hogsmeade.

James gave his mother's owl, Aethelstane, a treat and sent him on his way. He'd use one of the school owls to carry his reply.

He bundled his cloak close to him as he exited the Owlery by way of the outdoor steps and went to meet his friends in the Great Hall. He'd yet to eat breakfast and he was starving.

When he reached the table, only Remus was waiting for him.

"Mother says you can come for Christmas."

Remus nodded. "Thank you."

"Where's Wormtail?"

"He's feeling poorly."

James sighed, "It is that time of year, isn't it?" Half the school was coughing and sneezing.

Remus grimaced. "He said to go on without him."

James began to load up his plate. "Let's bring him back something fun from Zonko's, yeah?"

"Agreed."

It was at this point that James realized a kind of hush had fallen around him. He gritted his teeth. This was happening quite often—goddamn Lily and Sirius to hell. The gossip factory that was Hogwarts had seemed to conclude that Lily had thrown James over for Sirius. He supposed that made a perverse sort of sense but, bugger it all, this school obviously didn't assign enough work.

James ate his food in silence and haste. The sooner he could get to Hogsmeade the better.

* * *

Sirius walked beside Lily as she made her way through the streets of Hogsmeade. She was beginning to feel rather as though she'd fed a stray animal and thus earned its cumbersome devotion. She couldn't seem to shake him.

She didn't much mind; he was growing on her and it seemed he was quite tolerable when he wasn't going all out to be obnoxious. It still struck her as odd, however, because they didn't much get on.

He liked to talk far more than she liked to listen and it didn't take much before she either tuned him out or sniped at him to shut his mouth. She found his sense of humor mean, he found her emotionality "disgusting"—never mind that she'd just been through a breakup. He declared that her aversion to racing brooms and flying was unnatural, and she had countered with the logic that humans were not born with wings for a reason. He said that her habit of tapping her fingernails on her teeth had to be the most irritating tick in the history of the world. No more annoying, she had argued, than his inability to sit still for five minutes.

But they were both…lonely. So he followed her, and she allowed herself to be followed.

She wanted to get this trip to Hogsmeade over with as quickly as possible. True to form, she had managed to procrastinate both her Christmas shopping and a very important essay on the suit of Swords for Divination. Of course, the latter might have something to do with Sirius not leaving her alone long enough to finish the thing. Their evenings doing schoolwork in the library together were something of a charade. He argued that studying Divination made as much sense as drinking cat piss and had about as many practical applications in the real world. He could get her fuming on the subject with nothing more than a sneer. Meanwhile, Sirius carried on with the appearance of doing absolutely nothing, yet somehow managed to complete all of his assignments before her.

She sort of hated him still.

Lily pushed open the door to Dervish and Bangs, the little bell chiming above her and announcing her presence. A moment later, she heard the sound again and knew that Sirius had entered as well.

She had already been by Gladrags, Scrivenshaft's, and Honeydukes and had the better part of her shopping completed. She just needed a gift for her father. He was a nightmare to shop for. Luckily, Dervish and Bangs was a veritable cornucopia of odd trinkets that had never seen mass production. If she were going to find anything for her father in Hogsmeade, it would be here.

"I don't see why we can't hit Zonko's. That's one stop shopping, really." Sirius said from behind her. He had been asking to go to Zonko's since they entered the village. She had already told him to have at it, by all means, but he did not go.

"Not for me it isn't."

"Then you know boring people."

She ignored him and began pacing the aisles. She selected a good half a dozen items, only to replace them a moment later after further examination.

"You're looking for your dad, right?"

"Yes," she sighed. "And nothing seems right."

"Impossible to shop for?"

Lily nodded.

Sirius absently tossed a wax seal back onto the shelf where it belonged. "James is like that. He has _everything_ already, and he's so difficult to please."

She snorted, which earned her a smirk from Sirius.

"But you'd know all about that, wouldn't you love?"

Lily raised her brow. "Maybe _you_ couldn't please him, but I'm quite certain he enjoyed me."

"Cute." Sirius rolled his eyes. "And, perhaps, true." He leaned against a shelf and appraised her. "You come off like a stiff prig, and your tits are just…so bloody small."

Lily flinched and reflexively wrapped her arms around her chest.

"But, if you're more fun to talk to than you look, I imagine you're also more fun to fuck. Besides, James is as easy as pie to bring off. All you have to do is give him a little suck now and again. But all that misses the point. I wasn't talking about sex and you know it."

Lily looked away.

"I'm talking about how now matter how hard you try, you can't quite meet his standards."

She didn't respond.

Still Sirius went on. "Oh, things are dandy while he's working for _your_ approval, but he's unforgiving as hell once he has the high ground." Lily could hear Sirius picking up and setting down numerous items along the shelf though she refused to look. "That's rule one for dealing with James: never, ever, allow him to think he sits in a place of moral superiority or he will eat you alive. As much as he hates to lose, winning turns him into a complete and total bastard."

Lily thought about that. No, she'd never played so much as a game of Gobstones with James, but what Sirius was saying made a certain amount of sense. She and James had played a game of courtship for years, and she had let him win. Did winning let him think he had the right to pass judgment on her? The way he had passed judgment on Severus, on Sirius?

"The worst part is that the whole business just sneaks up on you. With James, everything's fine—until, suddenly, it's not."

She worried her lip.

"It was an embarrassing rookie mistake on my part," Sirius admitted. "I should know better. You, on the other hand, can't blame yourself. You don't speak tosser."

Lily smiled and finally met Sirius' eyes. "Give me time. I'm learning."

Sirius grinned back. "That you are, sweet. That you are."

Lily's gaze fell to a tiny chirping lapel pin Sirius was twiddling in his fingers. It was a gold starling with its wings spread wide. Her father loved walking in the woods and had an impressive array of bird calls at his disposal, or at least it had seemed so to Lily in her youth. Her father rarely took his girls on walks with him anymore, but she knew he still loved birds. Whether he loved lapel pins was another business entirely—she'd never seen him wear one before. Still, it was the best idea she'd had all day.

"That," she said pointing to it, "I'll get him that."

Sirius took another look at the object in his hand. "You certain? A bit poncey isn't it."

She held out her hand. "Just give it to me."

He shrugged and flipped the pin into the air at her. She almost didn't manage to catch it, and scowled at him as a result.

"When you're done paying for that ugly thing, can we _please_ go somewhere I want to go?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Yes, we can go to Zonko's."

He shook his head. "Not Zonko's—I have a better idea."

"I'm not going to the Hog's Head again. That was traumatic enough the first time around."

Sirius sniggered like he couldn't help himself. "James took you to the Hog's Head?"

Lily merely raised a brow. She didn't want to think about that day, let alone discuss it. It was too good a memory and the breakup, though two weeks ago, was still too close. Luckily, Sirius did not press.

"Not the Hog's Head either," he reassured her.

When she looked at him expectantly he added, "It's a surprise."

* * *

For the first time ever, James found himself in Madam Puddifoot's and sober at once. As he looked around at all the overly affectionate couples and the garish Christmas decorations, he was deeply sorry that he had broken that streak.

James had learned only today that Remus came in here all the time. Alone. With a book. For nothing more than the hot chocolate, which he quite liked. James couldn't decide whether he respected his friend more or less for this. On the one hand, such an action took balls. On the other, James knew that he was never going to be able to get all of this confetti out of his hair. The hot chocolate couldn't be _that_ good.

Besides, he had quite taken to coffee in the recent years. His mother thought it was a filthy, common brew and stuck to her tea, but James liked the aroma. He took it black and preferred it to hot chocolate any day of the week. Remus could keep his frou-frou drink with the little marshmallows; James was dead set on something with a bitter kick.

He felt an uncomfortable number of eyes on him while he waited for Remus to get their hot beverages, and turned toward them. He waved, hoping to embarrass them for staring. It worked on most, but not all. He caught eyes with one of them, Heather Tillney. She lifted her brow and inclined her head toward a table in the back.

When James followed her gesture, he saw what would go down as one of the most supremely disquieting things he'd seen in his lifetime: Sirius and Lily at a little table in the corner.

At least they didn't look cozy, James told himself. In truth, they seemed to be arguing. But still, there they were.

He should look away, really. That was his new policy after all: don't think about Lily, don't look at Lily. These tasks were made infinitely easier by the omnipresent awkwardness that filled any room they both occupied since their breakup. On that first day, the only time they had interacted had been strictly Head Boy and Girl business. Even that ended though, once she heard what he had done to Snape in the infirmary. Since then, all communication had been by prefect proxy. And yet, he did not look away.

In fact, he did one worse. When Sirius rose and headed to the loo in a snit, James felt his legs carrying himself toward her. It was one of those moments when James wished time would slow down so that he could talk himself out of what he was doing, but in barely a moment he was beside her, lowering himself into a chair at the table.

It was vaguely comforting that she looked every bit as startled as he felt. That wasn't worth much though because, James realized with an acute sense of shame, he'd come all the way over here and was just now appreciating that he had nothing whatsoever to say. Instead he just gazed at her, drank her in.

The new policy, the "don't look at Lily" policy, was shit. James liked looking at Lily—he had known that from the first time he tried it. Like flying, once was enough to know it was one of his favorite activities in the world. She was beautiful and sexy, and any bloke who didn't think so had a broken penis.

Her cheeks were a glowing pink, though he wasn't quite sure whether that was due to his scrutiny or the fact that she had clearly come in from the chapping wind just a moment or two ago. Her bright hair had been pulled back and plaited, but the wind had wreaked havoc there as well, and her face was surrounded by tangled flyaways. There were no short skirts or low-cut tops today. In fact, with her heavy cloak, scarf, and mittens, there wasn't so much as a glimpse of skin visible below the chin. Somehow, that only made the picture of what she looked like in nothing but skin all the clearer.

But that was a brief thought. Today, the image of her face was far more captivating than the thought of her body. He noted with a jolt that her green eyes were wide, as though she were nervous about what he might say. As though he might have come all the way over here to tell her off. It was then that he remembered that he was angry with her, only to realize…he wasn't. Annoyed perhaps, bitter certainly, mostly…defeated. But not angry, not anymore.

Avoiding her had been the perfect way to hide from the way he felt about her. He wasn't quite sure what those feelings were anymore, but they were far more mixed than his general sourness would lead him to believe. Not facing her meant not facing what he had said to her.

It seemed that, somehow, he was right back where he had started a year and a half ago: scrutinizing his actions, his life, and not liking what he was seeing. Vowing to do better, be better. This reform business was complicated. Just when he thought he was making progress, that he had left the fuckwit behind, he was reminded of just how much further he had to go. Turning over a new leaf meant keeping an eye on the damned thing to be sure it didn't flip itself back over.

He knew what he needed to do. He didn't want to do it, but he would. If he could find it within himself to apologize to Snape, he could certainly apologize to Lily.

"I'm sorry," he heard himself say.

Lily swallowed.

"Not about ending our…whatever it was," he clarified. "But I was…." He swallowed too, his eyes not wavering from hers. "Mean," he finished. "I was mean. You didn't deserve that, and I'm sorry."

And it was true. He was sorry. However enraged he had been, and no matter how she had wronged him, hurting Lily—possibly even causing tears—was _never_ a desired result.

She did not speak, but after a moment her astonishment faded and something in her face softened. She leaned toward him almost indiscernibly, and James could see in her eyes that she might just put her hand over his.

He stood. He wasn't up for that.

"Enjoy your tea," he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his cloak.

James walked back to where Remus was waiting with coffee and a expression of curiosity on his face. James did not speak to his mate, but took the coffee and lead the way out of the shop.

* * *

Lily was an accessory to thievery.

At first she had been dismayed by Sirius dragging her to Madam Puddifoot's, perhaps even a bit leery. Sure Sirius had adopted a casually flirty demeanor with her, but she hadn't taken it seriously. He didn't seem to be interested in her that way. It was too natural and easy for him to be putting much thought or effort into it, and Lily had wondered if he flirted with her simply because he didn't know any other way to behave with a female. But when they had headed toward Madam Puddifoot's, Lily'd had a mad moment when she wondered if she hadn't been mistaken, that Sirius actually thought there was something to their banter and was trying to turn their Hogsmeade shopping trip into a date.

She had panicked, almost going so far as to refuse to enter the building. Luckily, Sirius seemed to know what she was thinking and had dispelled any doubts she may have had.

"For fuck's sake," he rolled his eyes. "I don't want a snog, you ninny. Not that Prongs and I haven't taken turns before, but that was only when the bird was exceptionally slaggish. Also, let us remember: I'm open James to punching me, not murdering me. There is a difference." It was then that he'd come clean. "There's something I need to nick from here, and if I go in with you, people will be too busy jabbering about us being there together to be watching what I slip into my pockets."

Then had begun Lily's campaign to talk Sirius out of stealing whatever it was he was intending to steal. She wasn't nearly the killjoy James and Sirius had clearly always assumed she was, but she had no wish to be party to a crime—particularly one that victimized so sweet a woman as the poor, lonely Madam Puddifoot.

Of course all hope that she may have had in deterring Sirius' larceny went out the window, along with her concentration and general sanity, when James had sat next to her at that tiny, intimate table.

As she gaped at him, she found she couldn't breathe. After weeks of keeping the greatest distance possible between them, to have him so close was suffocating. Then he'd said the words she'd least expected. He said he was sorry—and not the way he had before. This wasn't a silly note or a folded flower. This was a simple, matter-of-fact admission of wrongdoing followed by an expression of sincere regret. There were no excuses or rationalizations or reasons; just a naked apology.

Lily couldn't help but like that.

Sirius was whistling to get her attention. "You can mope over James later, love. Right now you're helping me hang this bunting."

Lily made a face at him, but nevertheless charmed the edge of the dyed silk into place. She took a step back to assess their handiwork.

"It's crooked," she announced.

"Good." Sirius hopped down from the sofa he had climbed to reach the molding above the fireplace.

"Good?"

"Yes. Don't forget, these are sarcastic decorations, Lily. It wouldn't do for them to think I had done any of this in earnest, now would it."

They were in the Shrieking Shack spreading the Christmas cheer Sirius had stolen from Madam Puddifoot's. Despoiled the decorations may be (and Christmas being the theme, Lily was fairly certain such contradicted the spirit of the custom), but what was done was done. Lily had not managed to prevent Sirius from making off with a cloak full of trappings, but if she were honest, it was doubtful that Madam Puddifoot or anyone else would notice they were gone. Lily didn't want to help hang them in this deathtrap calling itself a house, but Sirius had gone with her on her errands, so she felt compelled to return the favor.

He'd had only a moment's hesitation about leading her into the Shrieking Shack, but after she'd admitted that James had brought her there already, he had shook his head and hadn't seemed to give it a second thought.

"What did James want anyway?" Sirius asked as though he didn't care what the answer may be.

Lily knew better.

"He was just apologizing."

Sirius paused as he wrapped a string of tinsel around a moldy old armchair.

She shifted uncomfortably under Sirius' gaze. "For, you know, the things he said when he chucked me."

"Yeah, well, James is always apologizing for something," Sirius said derisively, and he returned to his task.

Lily looked down at the roll of tinsel in her own hands. Yes, it did seem as though James was driven to apologize often. But as she began to string it in a pattern around the nails of the boarded up windows, it occurred to her that there were worse things. After all, James could be the sort that didn't apologize at all, like Sirius…or Severus. All three boys possessed great quantities of arrogance and self-involvement, and it seemed to Lily that James' ability to admit fault in his actions set him apart from the pack.

It was also nice that James seemed to be taking the gossip about her and Sirius more or less in stride, though she was sure it must be mortifying for him. Perhaps he understood the absurdity of the talk. If so, she was glad. She had always made her lack of attraction to Sirius clear.

Truly, at the end of the day, Sirius was just wetting her appetite for James. The devil was that the boys had a lot in common: equally clever, confident, and daring, with similar senses of humor to boot. But as much as James and Sirius had in common superficially, it was the details that made the difference. Sirius had none of James' soft edges, and Lily found herself reacquainted daily with her love for James, because all the qualities that made her heart pound were conspicuously absent in Sirius.

It was painful that James did not want her anymore, particularly because she had been judged by her own merits and had been found lacking. James' ideal may have been hard to live up to, but there was no denying that James had dumped Lily the girl, not Lily the goddess.

Her anger had carried her through that first week. After all, it was justified: James was acting like a prat, and not just to her. The purported apology to Severus had given her pause; if James could manage that, there must be some contrition at work. She didn't know if the impetus was the end of their relationship, or Dumbledore almost taking away his badge, but the reformed James was back, more determined than ever to keep himself firmly in line. Her anger had been a sputtering hearth fire that morning, and James' apology had been a bucket of water that put it out completely.

The worst part was that it threw into sharp relief all that she had done, but had yet to beg James' forgiveness for. Her fingerprints were all over this mess.

Honestly, James hadn't seemed all that emotionally invested at the start, and she had never intended to be at all. But Lily had never done this before, this sex with no promises business, and she had been the one to muck that up—not James. Looking back now, what was James supposed to think? She had treated him like a boyfriend one minute and like a casual lover the next. Whether James had grown to have feelings for her or if he had simply had his pride hurt didn't really matter in the end. Lily had set the tone, the parameters, the pace of the relationship. She had steered the ship, and she had run them aground.

While this didn't lessen James' half of the blame, it certainly made hers impossible to deny.

Lily thought of their last day together, of the arguments they had shared, and her heart ached. He had said so many cruel things, but what had she done? Nothing.

He had told her not to talk about Severus, and she had actually obeyed. She should have pushed back, told him what he hadn't wanted to hear and she hadn't wanted to say: that Severus repulsed her, that he frightened her, that whatever tender feelings she might have left were for a boy who didn't exist anymore, who had perhaps only ever existed in her imagination. Then, at least, James would have understood where things lie.

"…you're a real moron if you think I could ever confuse you with anyone else, especially Severus." Lily winced as she thought of the expression on James' face when she had said these words. In the moment she had missed it, but in hindsight she knew that James had taken them to mean precisely the opposite of what she had intended.

Two weeks distance gave her some measure of objectivity, and Lily understood with no small amount of bemusement that she had hurt James just as surely as he had hurt her.

It was unquestionable that James had his share of failings, and that Lily was learning more about them every day. He had a truly nasty temper, and he was, as Sirius had pronounced, self-righteous and unforgiving. But it was also true that James was quite a bit more than the sum of his parts, even these particularly unpleasant ones. She still loved him, and he had deserved more than what she had given him.

But that was water under the bridge now, and she could not go back. But she could…clean up the mess perhaps. Yes. Yes, she could. She had been so wary of putting herself out there, of telling him how she felt, but what harm could it do now? Her heart was already broken. The pain and humiliation that had so terrified her? She was soaking in it. Helping him understand what he'd been to her could only be a salve to both of them. She wouldn't feel like such a coward anymore, and he would know that he hadn't just been a "glorified sex toy."

Her thoughts ran to silly, girlish places of romance at that thought. Wouldn't it be wonderful if he swept her up in his arms when she confessed her feelings? But Lily shook herself. Perhaps that was what she wanted, but then, ending things had not been her idea. She had gone into that common room to hash things out. It was James who had decided she "wasn't worth it." But that was the wrong motive anyway. This shouldn't be about getting him back, but about setting things right. She couldn't go back, she reminded herself again.

James…would not take her back anyway.

"No, no, no! Evans, what the bloody hell are you doing?"

Her whole body jumped at Sirius's words. She turned to see him striding toward her.

"Good Lord, you are a girl, aren't you?"

"What?"

"Don't get cheeky with me. I told you, _sarcastic_." He gestured to the pattern she had made with the tinsel. She hadn't even been paying attention to what she was doing, but she had to admit, Sirius had a point. It didn't look sarcastic. It looked…symmetrical.

"Oh, balls." Sirius groaned. "You look like someone gave you a big steaming draft of My Bunny Has Cancer."

She snorted sullenly.

"How's about you just don't think of him while you're with me?"

Lily glared at him. "Not bloody likely. Aside from the fact that you share more than a few of his mannerisms," she said as she snatched up the silver angel-shaped trinket he was rolling over the backs of his fingers, "there's the small matter that this whole place reminds me of him." She gestured to indicate the Shrieking Shack.

Sirius took a measured look around. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Do you?" Her voice had a little more ire than she intended. "I doubt somehow that this room makes you think of kissing James."

He grinned briefly. "Now don't let's be hasty."

Lily chewed her lip to keep from smiling.

"Wait. You and James didn't shag in here, did you?" He eyed the sofa dubiously.

"No." She reassured him. "That was before we were sleeping together."

"Well, thank Merlin for that."

"Besides, I find it a bit rich that you don't want me to think of him, and yet this prank of yours is all for his benefit."

"Not just him! Moony and Wormy deserve their share of the love as well. You know Lily, I do have other friends that aren't speaking to me." He winked at her.

Lily sighed in exasperation. Did he ever take anything seriously?

He stepped closer to her mess of tinsel. "So…is that what this is then? A postmodern, metaphysical rendering of James Potter's kiss?"

She raised her brows and shrugged. "Sure."

"Fascinating," he stroked his chin.

"Do I still need to figure out a way to make it sarcastic?"

"No." Sirius drew his wand. "It's better than that now. It's pompous drivel. Besides, I can make it match the décor."

Below her design, he wrote with his wand:

UNTITLED

(THE LUMINOUS KISS

OF JAMES POTTER)

a postmodern, metaphysical rendering by:

Lily Evans

"Gee," Lily said. "That did make it sarcastic."

Sirius spread his palms. "I can't help that I have the gift of subtly. And feng shui."

Lily couldn't help herself; she laughed.

"Ah," Sirius said with a smirk. "There's that smile." He draped his arm around her shoulders. "Now Evans, what do you say we toss this confetti all over the damned place and get the hell out of here?"

She nodded.

"Excellent. Then we'll pop by Canard's. Ice cream, I've been told, is a passable antidote to My Bunny Has Cancer."

"What about you?" Lily asked. "Don't you have Christmas shopping to do?"

"Done it. Mum and Dad Potter have already received their packages." He was flinging confetti in every direction. "You could take a lesson from me, Lily. Never leave for tomorrow a stitch in time, and the captain of industry always gets the worm."

He was as good-humored as ever, but Lily couldn't help but latch onto the brevity of his Christmas list. Did he really have no one to shop for but James' parents? And with he and James not speaking, would he be alone this Christmas?

"Sirius?"

"Yes?"

"Would you like to come to my house for Christmas dinner?"

His whole demeanor changed and she knew that she had spooked him.

"My sister's a nightmare," she said quickly. "It'll all be easier to take if I have someone else to help me torment her. And my mum's cooking isn't bad."

She watched his face. She wasn't fooling anyone with her flimsy pretext, but it served its purpose.

"Sounds gruesome. I'll be there."

* * *

James had put off replying to his mother's letter until well after dinner was over. When he had finally gone up to the Owlery with a quill and a scrap of parchment, it was only to stare out the window. What to tell this woman who thought he could do no wrong? That he was sorry his father had unnecessarily paid out a bribe to smooth over his transgressions? That things with Lily had gone all to cock? That the situation with Sirius was too…complicated to be resolved in time for Christmas?

In the end, he just scribbled a quick note thanking her for the chocolate and sent it with a school owl.

Afterward, he went for a walk on the school grounds. Snow was falling, but he didn't mind. The air was cold but clean. The effect was rousing.

He knew that after the day he'd had he should be tense, or perhaps even down, but he was neither. He knew that much of that was due to apologizing to Lily. He had not wanted to do it in the moment, but he'd felt so much better afterward, as though he had washed away much of the stink he'd accumulated over the past month. With his renewed efforts at reform, making things right with Lily felt like progress.

It had also surprised the hell out of the other students in Puddifoot's, and James smirked at that. They had thought they were going to get to see a show; instead they got a completely civil encounter. Well, it served them right for having it so completely wrong—as usual.

God only knew what was going on with Lily and Sirius, but it wasn't what Hogwarts thought. Perhaps they were becoming friends of sorts, but there sure as shit wasn't romance. James had been watching—he couldn't help but watch, especially following their tea in Puddifoot's today—and after keeping an eye on them all through dinner, James had reached a verdict. Lily ignored Sirius too much to be smitten, and James knew how Sirius behaved when he fancied a girl. Lily was getting none of Sirius' best smarm.

In fact, it was rather clear from the way Lily kept stealing glances at James throughout the meal (and classes, and prefect meetings, and the night before when he'd returned from training at the pitch without showering), that he was the one occupying her thoughts, not Sirius or anyone else. They weren't just shy glances either. They were full of longing. _She still wants me_, he thought, and there couldn't help but be a response in is pants at that—not to mention no small measure of smug satisfaction. There was a bitterness as well. After all, Lily's lust for him had been what brought them together in the first place, but it had also torn them apart. Still, while he may not have been much more than a fuck to Lily, it was becoming clear that he'd been a hell of a fuck. A fuck she'd not soon forget.

He was a bloke; he couldn't help but like that idea. He damn well hoped he'd gone and ruined her for sex with other men.

James sighed. It was nearing curfew. He made his way back into the castle, but instead of continuing up to his room, he set a course for the kitchens. Peter was still sick and James had made a mental note to bring him up some tea before bed. The house elves were only too happy to oblige, and James nicked some biscuits while he was at it. He ate them on his way up to Gryffindor tower, meeting no one but the haughty Grey Lady on his way. Remus and Davy were still revising in the common room, and James waved to the former. Peter was alone in the dormitory; Merlin only knew where Sirius was.

When he saw James enter, Peter jumped and tried to hide several papers under his covers.

"Is this a bad time?" James said, his lips tugging at a smile. "Far be it from me to interrupt a wank."

"What?" Peter squeaked. "No, I was just…I rather…."

James waved him off. "Just taking the piss, Wormy." He gestured to the cup and saucer in his hand. "Brought you some tea." He set it down on Peter's bedside table, then turned to go.

"Wait," James heard Peter say. When he turned around, he saw his bedridden friend fishing the sheaves of parchment out of the blankets.

"I…I've been trying to do it myself, but I'm just not clever enough. I'm missing a step somewhere, I must be."

"Transfiguration?" James asked.

Peter shook his head and held out his work.

James had to study it for a moment before it dawned on him what it was. "You're making another Marauder's Map?"

"Trying to anyway," Peter said. "I should have paid more attention to what you and Moony were doing instead of playing so much Exploding Snap with Padfoot. I've made a mess of it, I'm afraid."

"Why?" James looked up from the parchment. "We're leaving school in a few months. After that, a Marauder's Map would be useless."

Peter's sickly pale face fell a bit at that. "I hadn't considered that," he confessed. "I just thought…maybe if I replaced the map…Sirius and Remus might start talking again."

James was surprised by that answer. It was a plan that completely missed the point; the loss of the Map had simply served as a catalyst, an excuse. It had nothing to with why Sirius and Remus weren't speaking. But James didn't say that.

He hadn't thought of what the splintering of the group might be doing to Peter. Peter's whole identity was wrapped up in being a Marauder, in the friendships they had forged over the years. Sirius particularly had been Peter's excuse to eschew schoolwork and get up to all sorts of mischief. If not for Sirius, Peter might never have had a girlfriend. James had been quite aware of the hole Sirius had left in his own life, but he hadn't thought of Wormtail.

While, as was often the case, Peter's plan left much to be desired, James couldn't bring himself to rain on his parade.

"Well," James said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It's been years, but think I still remember how Remus managed it in the end."

Peter smiled gratefully.

James worked on the map with Peter for a few hours until Remus came up to bed. At that point, it was well after curfew and James was yawning. Rather than try to sneak down to the Head dormitories without the benefit of his Invisibility Cloak, he lay fully clothed on his old bed. It felt sort of like coming home.

His last thought before he fell asleep, was of Lily and the Christmas gift he'd bought her weeks ago. What to do with it now? He should probably just chuck it. He'd do that in the morning.


	17. New Year's Eve

**17**

**New Year's Eve**

James was glad to be leaving the house for the night, even if it was for some silly New Year's party. He loved his parents, but they took a lot out of him. His mother was being her meddling self in full force, bringing up Sirius at every instant, sighing, and giving James significant looks. James employed one of his father's tried and true tactics and pretended that she was simply being too subtle for him to catch her drift. Not only did this excuse him of accounting for himself, it also provided some small measure of entertainment as she kept upping the ante.

Less amusing were his mother's attempts to pump him for information about Lily. James was as vague as possible in his description of her and their failed relationship, talking about their break-up as nonchalantly as he could manage. Try as his mother might, he hadn't even committed to whether or not Lily's hair was red.

His polished shoes slapped against the stones of the street briskly as he walked. He, Remus, and Peter had Apparated just a short distance away and were now making their way to the large townhouse where the party would be held. Peter was chattering relentlessly to Remus behind him, but James was fairly certain that no one was listening to him. Peter was the reason they were there; neither James nor Remus had wanted to come.

Juliet Moss held her New Year's party every year. It was by invitation only, and she was rather choosy about who got those invitations. The Moss family was old and more or less pure-blood, but they didn't have much political conviction about the issue of blood, or anything else for that matter. James' father had always sniffed that the Mosses were silly people, more concerned with clothes, liquor, and cards than any self-respecting person should be. Juliet filled her parties with the rich and the influential, provided they were young and knew how to have a good time. She always said that she didn't like adults at her party, though she was twenty-two years of age and most of her guests were in their early twenties as well. She had invited James and Sirius every year since they turned fifteen. Each invitee was allowed a single guest, and James usually brought a girl. Tonight, however, he had his two mates with him, both too poor and inconsequential for Juliet's notice. Technically, he was only supposed to bring one of them, but he wasn't too bothered about the possibility of upsetting his hostess; this would be the last year he attended.

James fidgeted with his bowtie yet again. He really hated the blasted things. This one had been tied on straight because his mother had done it, not Lily, but he wouldn't be surprised if it was lopsided now from all his tugging. He was dressed in a Muggle tuxedo as per the instructions on Juliet's invitation. It was even worse than dress robes. James didn't mind the Moss obsession with liquor and cards overmuch—he quite liked those things himself—but he didn't take kindly to each party having its own fashion palette. Last year, she had made them all dress up as though they would be attending King Arthur's court, and the year before that it had been the high fashion of wizarding China.

This year, however, the trend seemed to be Muggle couture. That was a cyclical fad that would crop up once every ten years or so amongst the children of the oldest wizarding families. Wizarding fashion changed so slowly that robes today and robes from a hundred years ago were virtually interchangeable. But the Muggles were different; their clothing would change often and in extreme and surprising ways. Rich, bored children of the wizarding elite couldn't help but be drawn to that, if only for short spurts at a time. This was a Moss party, however. So, rather than denim and trainers, the expectation was something called a tuxedo. James hadn't wanted to purchase one, but then Remus had explained that few Muggles actually owned tuxedos and there were shops where you could simply rent them for weddings and things.

James still had not wanted to go, but Peter had begged, so they had rented three.

They climbed the stairs of the townhouse and Peter finally stopped talking as the noises from within grew louder. James looked back at his friends; Peter was twitching with nervous excitement, and even Remus looked like he had come to anticipate the evening. Neither of them had ever been to a party like this one. James knew that on the other side of this door lay the largest collection of vapid people in the wizarding world, many of them enemies. Juliet invited across the line drawn in the sand by the war. But he didn't want to spoil their fun. He smiled encouragingly at them instead, and then rang the bell.

* * *

Lily was staring at herself in the mirror of Sirius' loo, struck a bit dumb. She couldn't leave the flat like this, she just couldn't.

All her misgivings about the evening increased.

Sirius had been begging her to go with him to some ridiculous New Year's party all holiday, but the more she heard about it, the less she wanted to go. She remembered Juliet Moss from her days as the simpering Hufflepuff social queen. When Sirius had casually tossed out that the place would also be crawling with suspected political reactionaries and a good number of James' exes, either of which would just as soon hex her as look at her, she was even less keen. When she'd clapped eyes on the invitation, Juliet's very specific dress code had given Lily her out.

"I don't own anything fine enough to even get through the door," she'd told Sirius with false regret.

But Sirius had just taken that as a challenge, and when she had arrived at his flat for what she had thought would be an evening of Chinese food and losing to Sirius at Wizard Chess, he had thrust a parcel at her.

"What's this?"

"A costume," he'd said smugly. "For you to wear to the party."

She'd dropped the parcel as though it had burned her. "Sirius…you didn't…spend money on me did you?"

They'd already had an argument about this due to the expensive new cauldron he had given her for Christmas. She'd accepted the gift in the end, partly because she'd learned he was a generous person with his money, but had no one to spoil currently, and partly because he'd promised never to do it again.

"Of course not. I stole it."

She was scandalized.

"From my mum," he amended. "Not from a shop. She won't even know it's gone, and she'll never be wearing it again. She hasn't been that size since 1946."

This, of course, had lead to another argument. Finally, they reached a compromise: Lily would wear the dress tonight as long as he returned it.

Once in the loo, Lily finally opened the parcel. It was a backless white satin gown with a long silhouette and gold thread embroidery. A gold broach the size of her fist and the shape of a rose created a gather in the skirt at one hip. There were matching lace gloves that went to her elbow. A costume indeed.

It was the loveliest thing she had ever seen, and Lily had only her wand to make herself worthy of it. She transfigured her grubby, scuffed trainers into heels of the right height, and tightened her wavy curls with a handy spell Hestia had taught her. Her bra was a bit tricky, but eventually she managed to make it as backless as the dress while upping the support.

When she was done, she had lengthened Sirius' mirror so that she could see her ensemble all at once. Her first cogent thought was, _I look like Rita Hayworth_. Which was ludicrous. No one looked like Rita Hayworth. Yet Sirius' declaration that his mother had not been this size since 1946 came back to her. It was certainly a period dress, and so called to mind the women in her mother's favorite films: Lauren Bacall, Bette Davis, and Veronica Lake.

Lily felt foolish, like a little girl playing dress up.

She brought out her wand again and did a little backpedaling. What had she been thinking, painting up her eyes like that?

"For fuck's sake, Lily!" Sirius barked as he pounded on the door. "What the hell are you doing in there? We were fashionably late an hour ago."

"I'm almost done!" she shouted back.

"Finally!" Sirius grumbled when Lily emerged, and he rose from where he had been lounging. Although he looked positively elegant in his tuxedo, the picture was ruined by the Firewhisky he was drinking straight from the bottle.

He appraised her. "Well, how about that, Evans. You actually look fuckable."

"In your mother's dress?"

Sirius nearly spit up his swig of Firewhisky. "Good God, why would you even say that?"

She giggled.

"No," he said, "that was mean. I give you a compliment, and you give me nightmares."

"Apologies, good sir." She batted her lashes insincerely.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Just do me a favor."

"What's that?"

He gestured to the gown. "Spill some wine on it tonight, will you?"

* * *

Alida fiddled with the clasp of her bracelet. Though she was wearing a full-length gown and a fur stole, she felt naked and exposed. It was as though every eye in the room was on her. Such couldn't be the case, but it felt true.

Her eyes darted to the grandfather clock against a nearby wall. She would not be here long—only forty minutes more if all went according to plan—but time was moving ever so slowly. She watched the dancers, looking fine but also quite garish in their bright and varied ensembles. A girl nearby was wearing vibrant orange, and Alida eyed her own pale blue dress in a large mirror opposite them both. She looked mousy by comparison, but then, didn't she always? At least it was unlikely anyone would notice her. She felt a thrill of dread at the idea of being dragged onto the dance floor. Alida did not enjoy dancing, and besides, she was here for a very specific purpose, and it was not to dance.

The thought had no sooner entered her head then she caught eyes with Devlin Speck, a former Ravenclaw who had been above her by a year. He had asked her to Hogsmeade once, but she had declined on account of her new relationship with James.

He began to move toward her, and she retreated. She slipped through the crowd as unobtrusively as she could manage, making her way toward the library.

The door to the library demanded a password before allowing entry, but Lucius had given it to Alida in anticipation of their meeting. When she closed the door behind her, she felt her nervousness abate just a bit. This room was not part of the festivities. It was a meager library by anyone's standards, but it was empty and it was quiet.

She checked the time again. It would be several minutes before Lucius arrived, and she found herself scanning the shelves looking for a book to occupy her. A familiar name caught her eye and she withdrew a collection of Hesiod's poetry. She settled into a chair by the fire and waited for her cousin. So immersed she found herself in the familiar verses that she startled when she heard the door open.

Lucius Malfoy took stock of her. "This is the party of the year and you're hiding in here with a book." The side of his mouth curled a bit in a half-smile. "I don't know why I'm surprised."

She blushed, but did not reply.

"I have the heart." He patted his breast pocket.

Alida nodded and rose from where she sat. She replaced the book where she had found it with one final fond caress of the spine.

Lucius pulled a small, lumpy package from his dinner jacket, but he hesitated before he passed it to her. "Are you certain that you want this? Because I can throw it in that fire," he indicated the fireplace, "and never speak of it again."

Alida straightened herself a bit. "You'll do no such thing."

"Lida, I want you to hear me in no uncertain terms. Being in possession of a crup puppy heart is no light matter. If you're caught with it, the consequences will be quite serious. Expulsion at best; Azkaban at worst, if they guess how you mean to use it." The words were the kind she had come to expect from her father, but he spoke them as a friend.

"I've made up my mind, Lucius." She held out her hand.

He gave her the package.

"What did this Cornfoot chap do to merit the hell you're going to put him through?" he asked as she tucked the heart into a small pocket in her stole.

"He hurt Maggie." She hadn't meant to answer. In fact, she hadn't told anyone why she wanted Severus to brew this potion for Cornfoot. Her reasons were horrific and personal. But Lucius wouldn't tell anyone, she knew that. "Maggie was out of her head with drink and…other things. She was helpless, and he hurt her."

Lucius nodded slowly. "In that case, he deserves what he gets. I wish you the best of luck."

Alida gave a slight smile at that, and then moved toward the door.

"One moment." Lucius stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He was holding out a letter. "You've been of great service to the Dark Lord, but he has one last request of you."

Alida swallowed uncomfortably. "What is it?"

Lucius chuckled. "You look so terrified. It's nothing dangerous. Just get this letter to Rosier—discreetly. He's here tonight."

"Then why can't you?"

"Eyes will be on me. They won't be on you."

Slowly, Alida stretched out her hand and took the letter.

"I know it might be tempting," he said, a warning in his voice, "but please don't try to read it. Merlin knows what curses the Dark Lord put on it. We've had notes go astray in the past and he's determined that will never happen again."

Alida smiled wryly as she tucked the parchment in the pocket with the crup heart. "I'm not the curious type, Lucius."

"I'm warning you just the same."

"Thank you."

And with that, the two of them exited the library. Lucius went to rejoin his fiancée, and Alida made her way toward the ballroom, where she had last seen Rosier. If it had seemed before as though eyes were on her, now it felt as though every person she passed knew the dirty little secrets she was trying to smuggle out of this party. The puppy heart had been removed, still beating, from its owner hours before; it was cold and dead. Yet she could swear it burned hot, pressed against her chest, and that it was beating as rapidly as her own.

"Alida!"

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand touched her arm. She didn't feel any better when her eyes darted to the face of the speaker. Oh, God.

James was smiling at her. "I was hoping I'd see you."

He looked…lovely. Her stomach churned, though with fear or the usual butterflies James put there she couldn't be sure.

"I was just leaving," she lied

"It's not even eleven yet. It's a New Year's party, you can't leave before midnight."

She gave a smile her best effort. "I have a headache."

"Oh," he slipped a hand into his pocket and withdrew a tiny bag. "I've been having a few myself lately." He held out a dried root to her. "Skullcap. It's a mite bitter, but it works."

Mechanically, she took it from him.

"Don't swallow it, just chew it for a minute or two." He plucked a flute of champagne off a passing serving tray. "You can use this to wash the taste out afterward."

She wanted to protest, she wanted to run. But he was being so sweet, the way he had been before Lily Evans had whisked him away from her, first in spirit, then in body. This was the James who had been her boyfriend, the James she had loved.

And so she found herself raising the skullcap to her lips and chewing it as he had instructed. It was far more bitter than she had been expecting, and she must have made a funny face because James laughed.

"Do you want to spit it out?"

She nodded vigorously. He held out his hand and it took her a moment to understand that he meant for her to spit the root into his palm. She glanced around self-consciously, but the skullcap was so foul she couldn't resist his offer. He then pitched the partially chewed root into a nearby flower vase.

Alida couldn't suppress a giggle.

"Sorry," James said, and he held out the glass of champagne.

She took it and swished a mouthful around before swallowing. "You were just trying to help."

"You should probably know that I've now lost all respect for you."

The laughter bubbled up out of her. She had forgotten how silly he could be.

"Well," he said, "you're in a good mood—despite your headache, I mean. Usually you just glare at me when I joke. I'm lucky if I get a smile."

If she were to describe it, she'd say it was the nerves making her jittery.

"Can I at least get a dance before you go?" he asked.

Her giddiness faltered and she glanced at the door leading out of the ballroom.

"There's something I need to say, something long overdue. Just one dance?" he begged.

And she couldn't say no.

He led her onto the floor and began twirling her to a song she'd never heard before. It was likely a Muggle tune, to complement the theme of the evening. Her movements were a bit awkward, but then, she wasn't much of a dancer.

"That's an interesting wardrobe addition," he gestured to her fur stole. "What is that, fox? I thought you had a whole thing about animals."

Alida flushed. "I _do_ have a thing about animals." And as she said it, she had never been more aware of the weight of the heart in her pocket. "It's fake, but it's supposed to be arctic fox. Don't tell Juliet. I imagine faux fur would offend her sensibilities and violate her dress code."

James chuckled. "I won't tell a soul."

The music's tempo was far too upbeat for anything intimate, and Alida was grateful. She didn't want James to get close enough to feel the bulge in the pocket above her breast.

"What did you wish to say, James?"

He looked a tad uncomfortable, but after a moment he spoke. "I wanted to apologize."

"Apologize?"

"For how we left things. You deserved an explanation."

She stopped moving. "I really don't want one."

"I didn't cheat on you."

Alida blinked.

"At the time, I thought it didn't make a difference. We were ripe for an ending either way, and I didn't think you'd believe me if I told you the truth…so I didn't bother. But I've been thinking lately, and maybe that was unfair. You didn't deserve to think I'd done that to you, and Lily didn't deserve to have that gossip flying around. So, I just wanted to clear that up. I didn't cheat on you, not ever."

She was speechless.

"You were a good girlfriend, and you're a good person, and I shouldn't have taken you for granted."

James was chewing his lip slightly, and Alida could tell he was actually anxious about her response. That surprised her; he was usually so cocky. But then, Lily Evans had dumped him and run off with his best friend. That had to be a humbling experience.

"It's okay, James," she said, and her voice came out quite breathless.

As she made her way out of the ballroom a few minutes later, Rosier nowhere to be found, she found her own resolve strangely weakened. _You're a good person._ He wouldn't have said that if he'd known what she had done, what she was planning. But then, James' approval wasn't something she was striving for anymore. At least, that's what she told herself.

* * *

Lily didn't feel out of place in the wizarding world often anymore, but tonight, it appeared, would be one of those times.

No expense had been spared and Lily was sure that Juliet was quite proud of herself, but the party was a mess. The walls were adorned with Muggle pop culture posters that people kept poking as though a little prodding would make them move. Susan Dey and _The Rocky Horror Picture Show _were side by side on one wall, a blender on a pedestal between them. Model airplanes and disco balls hung from the ceiling, and she could hear "Love Her Madly" by The Doors blaring in the ballroom. A '56 Thunderbird was parked crookedly under the staircase with a television resting on the hood, soundlessly playing a _Monty Python's Flying Circus _sketch, and Lily couldn't help but wonder what the Pythons would think of all this.

The guests were an even bigger jumble; their clothing was all horrendously expensive, but couldn't have been put to stranger use. It was a mishmash from every era and, more often than not, was worn incorrectly or paired with another garment of inappropriate style and color.

It would be amusing if it all weren't so…offensive. Over her time at Hogwarts, Lily had found that even the most broad-minded of the established wizarding families spoke of non-magical life and people in much the same way as the European explorers of old documenting the native tribes of foreign lands. Lily tried to take this in the spirit it was meant, and normally she could dismiss the backhanded condescension as a quirk of the magical world. After all, even the well-meaning Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts was hopelessly clueless. But taking things in the spirit they were meant was sometimes part of the problem. This party's theme and its execution couldn't be interpreted as anything but mocking and pretentious. It left a bad taste in her mouth.

"Doesn't your mother have one of those in her kitchen?" Sirius asked, gesturing to the blender.

Lily nodded, her arm looped in his.

"Does it all feel like home?" he nodded to the whole of the décor.

She shook her head. "This isn't the non-magical world, Sirius. This is an exhibition; all it lacks is a freak show."

He seemed taken aback by her answer. "I'm sure Juliet would be interested to hear that."

"I doubt it," Lily said with a forced smile. "Magical folk are proudly ignorant of how most of the planet gets along."

Sirius studied her for a moment. "You're a witch, Lily."

She knew what he meant: that she was a part of the wizarding world, too. She supposed he was right; she did belong here. But the wizarding world was Narnia or Never Never Land, and she found herself more Wendy and Susan than Michael or Lucy. She loved it, and it might well be where she would spend the rest of her life, but it did not feel like home. She was beginning to wonder if it ever would.

"I know that, Sirius."

She walked toward the ballroom, dragging Sirius with her. Along the way, they passed a poster of The Who and Lily pressed the fingers of her free hand against her lips and then against the image of Roger Daltrey. Sirius saw her do this and smirked, but said nothing.

He made his desire to dance known from the moment they entered the ballroom. She declined. Sirius shrugged and went about finding willing dance partners. She kept herself entertained by sipping a glass of champagne and examining the Muggle "artifacts," as she heard several people call them. When "Alcohol" by The Kinks started up, however, she joined her friend on the dance floor. Sirius was a much better dancer than James, and Lily quickly found she was enjoying herself, despite the party.

She danced several songs with Sirius and she lost count of how many champagne flutes he put into her hand. She didn't finish them all, but she finished enough. Her friend Orsino cut in during Queen's "Tenement Funster," and she danced Bowie's "Rebel Rebel" with Brodie MacMillan. Lily hadn't laughed so much and so loudly since her break with James.

* * *

James was with Remus in the billiard room, one eye trained on Rosier as casually as he could manage. He felt a thrill of nervousness in his stomach, and his mind was reeling just a bit.

Dancing with Alida had been about all of the ballroom he could take, but it had seemed more than worth it at the time. Check one more off the list of the people he'd wronged. Afterward he'd made an immediate b-line for the card room, only to find the whist and poker tables full. So, the billiard room it was. He knew that Juliet threw these parties to flirt and dance, but James came for her game rooms and to steal her father's cigars. One such cigar was now cindering in the hand that rested on the table beside his propped cue while he waited patiently for Remus to pick his shot.

He hadn't thought he'd see Alida again tonight, as she'd told him she was going home, but he had. Not fifteen minutes ago, he'd caught a glimpse of her at a snooker table across the room, talking to Rosier. The conversation had been hurried and he had leaned toward her as though she were whispering. Then she had passed him a note.

Rosier had looked at her as though she were mad and quickly stuffed the parchment in his jacket. The whole thing was fishy, and strongly reminded him of a note pass he'd witnessed at the Lestrange wedding some six months ago. James and his peers weren't thirteen anymore, and the likelihood that secret notes contained silly questionnaires or dubious assertions of who fancied who were nearly nonexistent. They were in the middle of a war, after all. A war their parents and grandparents had started, true, but certainly a war his generation would continue. Secret notes these days meant life and death.

Rosier as a Death Eater, or at least as an affiliate, didn't require much imagination on James' part, but Alida? He found he could not believe it of her. She'd never touch the Dark Arts. She didn't have any issues with Muggle-borns. Alida would never _knowingly_ aid Death Eater communication, he was convinced of it. Still, he couldn't take the risk that Rosier had just received dangerous orders or information.

Peter arrived as his side, a plate piled high with lemon tarts and chocolate éclairs in his hands. "Padfoot's here," he announced.

James grunted in response. That was hardly a surprise; Sirius _loved_ this party.

"He brought Lily."

James looked at Peter, who didn't meet his eyes. "Bloody fantastic," he muttered.

Lily, here, with Sirius. That was just…wait, maybe not so bad. James perked up. Sirius was here. There was sneaky note passing and Sirius was here.

"Wormy, finish my game for me, will you?" James said, holding out his cue to his friend.

Peter swallowed the bite of pastry in his mouth, his wide eyes darting from James, to Remus, and back again. "Oh, I don't know. I'm really rubbish."

James shrugged and put out his cigar in an ashtray resting on the lip of the table. "I don't mind. Moony was winning anyway." They thought he was going to make a fool of himself over Lily, he could see it in both of their faces. James let go of the cue, forcing Peter to reach out and catch it, almost losing his grip on his plate of food in the process.

James heard his friends calling to him as he slipped from the room, and tossed a lie about popping to the loo over his shoulder. Sirius would be in the ballroom, he knew.

It didn't take long to locate him in the frenzy of bodies, dancing with a very rich, very drunk girl named Winifred Boxer who was belting that "this ain't the summer of love" along with the music. James swatted him on the back of the head none too gently. He wheeled about, but grinned when he saw James standing there.

"Come to duel me for my woman?" Sirius prodded with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

James' eyes flickered to Winifred. "She's not really my type," he deflected; Sirius had meant Lily and they both knew it, but James wasn't here to pick a fight.

He leaned in close to his mate's ear. "Rosier just had a note passed to him a very suspicious fashion. You want to help me get it or not?"

Sirius immediately sobered. "Oi, MacMillan!" he called. "Take care of this lovely lady for me," he said as he passed Winifred into Brodie's arms.

"Where's Rosier?"

"Playing snooker."

The two of them walked briskly back toward the billiard room. "Where's the note?"

"The left breast pocket of his jacket."

As they approached the door, however, they saw Rosier exit and head in their direction.

"So, it seems there's no time for a plan," Sirius said with a grin.

James rolled his eyes, but conceded that it was probably for the best. There was no need to over think this.

Sirius stumbled into Rosier drunkenly, throwing all of his weight into it. They both went down, Rosier with a yelp.

"What the hell!" Rosier shoved Sirius off of him. He went to sit up, but winced as though it was too fast.

"Are you all right?" James asked like he cared.

"Hit my head," Rosier snarled.

Sirius was spluttering with laughter. "Well, you broke _my_ fall."

"He's drunk," James said quickly. He held his hand out to Rosier as though to help him up, but Rosier predictably swatted James' hand away. James spread his palms, and helped Sirius up instead.

"I'll get some potion in him, sober him up," James said to Rosier. "No hard feelings, mate."

Rosier was on his feet, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm not your mate, Potter."

James shrugged. "If you say so." He lifted Sirius' arm around his shoulders as though to drag him toward the kitchen. When they were a decent distance from Rosier, he dropped the act and Sirius stood on his own.

"Did you get it?"

Sirius held up his right hand, the note between his index and middle fingers. James snatched it up.

"Hey! I stole it, I get to open it."

James shook his head. "No, you're going to find Lily and get her out of here."

Sirius placed his hand over his heart in a mock display of shock. "Prongs, are you giving me permission to take Lily home with me?"

"Recreational pure-blood supremacists are one thing. Death Eaters are another. She's Muggle-born, and if this note is what we think it is, it's not safe for her to be here."

"No concern for Winifred? She's Muggle-born, too."

James glared. "Yes, and gentleman that you are, you got her so pissed she won't be able to find the door on her own. It would be good to get her safe as well."

"Lil's not much better off, truth be told."

James looked at Sirius sharply.

He got defensive. "The girl likes her champagne. Is that any of my business?"

"Where's she now?"

"Dancing with Balthazar Smith, last I saw."

James nodded. The Smiths may be pompous, but they were no Death Eaters at least.

"You bring Moony or Wormtail with you?" Sirius asked.

"Both."

Sirius' eyebrows went up. "To hell with Juliet's rules then."

James gestured over his shoulder toward the billiard room. "Remus was schooling me in blackball and I dumped my cue on Peter to come find you."

Sirius winced; Remus routinely won anything billiard related.

"I know, not nicest thing to do to Wormy. I'll let them know to clear out, as well."

"So," Sirius clapped his hands together, "I'm rescuing the beautiful Muggle-born witches."

"And I'm reading and destroying this note."

As he strode away, Sirius said, "You'd better fucking tell me what it says."

James slipped into the billiard room and quietly instructed Peter and Remus to begin to make their way out of the party. They were curious as to why, but James shook his head and promised to fill them in later.

As they left, his picked his partially-smoked cigar up out of the ash tray and relit it with his wand. Where to read a secret note at a raucous party? Well, at a Moss party, there was really only one place. He just hoped the password for the library hadn't changed since last year.

It hadn't. A cursory glance around the room reassured him that it was empty. He went right for the fireplace; the best light in the room was there, as well as the perfect place to dispose of the parchment once he was finished. He had just withdrawn the note from the cuff of his shirt when he heard the library door open behind him.

In a panic, he tossed the note, unopened, into the fire, then whirled about to face the intruder.

It was Juliet. She was clearly sloshed, and a snifter of brandy was clutched in her right hand. Her elegant red dress was disheveled and her dark hair, which had been painstakingly curled a few hours ago, had gone flat.

"You're not supposed to be in here, Potter." Her words were only slightly slurred.

James removed his hand from his breast pocket, relinquishing his hold on his wand. "Neither are you."

Juliet made a face. "I know. I'm too drunk to read."

"And I'm too sober." He walked toward her. "We should go back to the party."

She seemed to like that idea. "I need another lemon tart," she told him.

James nodded in agreement, furtively glancing over his shoulder to satisfy himself that nothing was left of the note in fireplace. It was disappointing that he hadn't had a chance to read it, but the important thing was that Rosier hadn't either.

He placed his hand in the small of Juliet's back to push her out of the library. She gripped his arm to steady herself.

"And afterward, you come with me up to my room," she whispered with a giggle. Then she leaned in, and to his surprise, kissed him square on the mouth. It was awkward and she tasted of Carombrandy.

She pulled back with a smile on her face.

"Absolutely Juliet. Whatever you say." There was no way in hell he was going up to her room with her, but she wasn't going to remember this conversation either way.

Her attention went to his left hand as they exited the library. "Potter, is that one of Daddy's cigars?"

* * *

Lily was losing. Really, really losing, and her partner, Balthazar Smith, was glaring at her across the small card table. After all, she was making him lose, too.

When Sirius had extolled the virtues of this stupid party, one of the things he hadn't shut up about was the cards.

"Have you ever played whist?" he'd asked her.

"What? No!" Last she checked, it wasn't 1820.

"Bridge?"

"Sure."

"It's like bridge."

Whist was _nothing_ like bridge. Whist was hard. Lily knew that she was drunk, but still, she was pretty sure that whist was hard. The only thing it really seemed to have in common with bridge was keeping track of all the cards in the deck, and she couldn't manage that even when she was sober. It was her turn to play a card. Diamonds had been led, but Lily had no more in hand.

"What if…?"

She was immediately shushed. That was the most infuriating thing about whist: no talking. Not even to her partner. Lily kept forgetting that she wasn't supposed to talk.

She heard Integra Towler laughing to her left, and Lily smiled back at her. When she and Balthazar first sat down to play, Lily had groaned inwardly when she took stalk of their opposing team. Integra had been the one to deflower the fourteen-year-old James Potter, and her French boyfriend looked like he hadn't smiled in years. But the longer they played, the more Lily gravitated to her. The men were growing impatient with Lily's rambles about the songs they could hear playing in the ballroom and her slow uptake of the rules, but Integra didn't take the game too seriously and she was encouraging of Lily. There was nothing cruel in the laugh and it was as much directed at Balthazar and Henri's vehement "shh!" as it was Lily's mistake.

"She's never played before. Let her ask her question."

Lily was grateful for her intervention, but noted that Integra hadn't been shushed. She had just opened her mouth to ask her question when she realized she'd forgotten what it was. Luckily, she was saved from remembering by Sirius' voice.

"Tegra!" he said happily, and he stooped to kiss her cheek. "Haven't seen you in about a year."

Integra smiled. "I've been well. You look good. Still Keeping?"

Sirius nodded. "Much to the chagrin of my team."

"Well, you're not as good as I was, that's for damn sure. How's Jamie doing? Captain I hear."

_Jamie_. And James thought Lily using his first name was patronizing.

"Good for nothing, as I'm sure you remember. He's around here somewhere."

Lily choked on her champagne. James was _here_? Sirius had said he didn't think James would come tonight.

"Take it easy there, sweetheart. Swallow." Sirius patted her back, and rumpled her hair.

Lily glared at him and tried to smooth out the damage he'd done.

"Yours?" Integra asked Sirius, indicating Lily.

"No," Sirius said, "but I have her on loan."

"That's mine," Integra pointed to Henri. "Henri, this is Sirius Black. I know him from Hogwarts."

Sirius and Henri shook hands, and made introductory small talk. Sirius then made his way around the table to where Balthazar was huffing impatiently, clearly itching to get back to the game.

"You're in my seat," Sirius told him.

Balthazar looked as though he might argue with him, but then threw his cards down and left in a snit.

"You don't want to partner me, Sirius," Lily said. "I'm really bad at this."

"Well," he said as he fanned out the cards, "I'm really good. So, maybe it will all even out." He gave her a dazzling smile. Lily could see how girls could fall in love with him. When he smiled like that, it was as though she were patently adored. It was a nice feeling.

Play resumed, but Lily didn't have the anxiety that she'd had before; Sirius wasn't going to care if they lost.

Thirty minutes and two and a half glasses of champagne later, the game was concluded. She and Sirius lost spectacularly, and Integra and Henri got up from the table. Lily's goodbye to Integra was genuine; finally, she'd found an ex of James' that she liked, and it had to be someone who'd already left school.

When she and Sirius were left alone at the table, she gathered up the cards and began shuffling them idly.

"We should probably head home," Sirius told her.

"It's not that late."

"It's almost two in the morning," Sirius said. "And you've had quite a lot to drink."

"Well, this champagne is really yummy."

"I don't doubt it, but if you don't stop drinking it, you're going to get me in trouble."

"What are you still doing here?" A sharp voice came from behind. The cards slipped from Lily's hands.

"Too late," Sirius sighed.

James approached with a pretty brunette on his arm. "I thought you two were leaving. An hour ago." His words indicated the both of them, but he spoke only to Sirius. He looked so handsome in his wrinkled tuxedo and crooked bowtie.

"Hi, James!" She felt silly blurting that, but her head was swimmy, so the shame didn't last long.

James finally looked at her, and his gaze was like getting hit with a train. It was intense, it didn't waver, and it lasted for seconds that took hours. She felt a blush spread over her entire face, and smiled at him; he was making her feel warm and tingly. She leaned toward him without realizing immediately what she was doing.

She could hear Sirius laughing, but did not know, nor particularly care, why.

"Well, Prongs, it looks as though Lily would like you to sit and play a game of whist with us."

James was blushing now, too. "I don't know…"

"Oh, please," said Lily. "I'm terrible. You'll win for sure."

"What about you, Juliet?" Sirius addressed the young woman with James. Lily had forgotten her completely.

She seemed to waver as well, but then Sirius rose, kissed the back of her hand, and offered to escort her to her seat. She went with him happily.

_Yes, thank you Sirius_, Lily thought. Take the stupid girl she hadn't immediately recognized as their hostess. Take her far away from James.

James reluctantly lowered himself into the chair to Lily's right. Lily hastily gathered the cards and offered them to him. He stared at them for a moment before sighing and taking them from her.

Lily smiled hugely, then turned on Sirius who had just retaken his seat. "And you wanted to leave," she accused.

"Clearly, I was wrong," he said with a chuckle and a glance at James.

There was some joke she wasn't understanding, but Lily didn't mind. She was going to get to play cards with James, and she couldn't believe how happy that made her.

* * *

Lily was humming and singing softly in James' ear, off key, as he charmed her bedroom window open. Something about "if tonight was not a crooked trail, if tomorrow wasn't such a long time." James guessed it was a song she'd heard earlier at the party.

"We're home?" Lily asked as he carefully climbed through the window carrying her.

James looked around the room, at the blue flowers painted on the wall and the big, wrought-iron framed bed. The lamps from the street bathed the room in pale light, made gray through the filter of the muslin curtains. "God, I hope so," he said.

He had cobbled together directions from Lily's inebriated ramblings, and he was reasonably sure this was the right house and the right bedroom, but not certain. Even as he spoke, however, he saw a framed picture on the bedside table. It displayed a stationary Lily who couldn't be more than eight or nine, a blonde girl he supposed was her sister, and two parents. James sighed with relief. This was the place.

Goddamn Sirius. He should have removed Lily from the party the moment he'd found her, not sat down to play whist, even if it was a chance to catch up with Integra.

"She was fine, James. I was right there. How much trouble could she get into with me sitting across from her?" Sirius had snapped at him during that last game. "Besides, what proof do we have the note had anything to do with Death Eater business? You couldn't manage to read it without dropping it into a fire. For all we know, it was from his grandmother."

Sirius had a point there, though James still leaned toward his hunch. Alida's involvement or no, Rosier was just a bit too squirrely about taking the note in the first place for it to have been something innocent.

It was clear, however, that Sirius had just wanted to flirt with Juliet and that he had moved on from the possibility of danger. The subject of secret Death Eater communication was closed for now, so James settled in and played the damned game.

It had been like no session of whist James had ever sat. Lily reneged several times, forgetting to follow suit time and time again, yet everyone played as on as though there was nothing amiss. By the third hand Juliet was sitting in Sirius' lap, their cards in full view of each other, even though they were on opposing teams. And the talking! Good lord, the talking: Sirius and Juliet, Sirius and James, Lily and everyone.

Then Sirius had left James with Lily to go upstairs with Juliet. "You'll make sure she gets home and into bed, won't you mate?" Sirius had said with an exaggerated leer.

James had tossed him a rude gesture in return.

This situation couldn't be more awkward and ridiculous. All his mixed feelings about Lily were roiling together, warring. She looked thoroughly shaggable, even with her mascara smeared back across her temple. Hell, perhaps because of it. She looked rumpled and wild, and she was certainly willing. James had gotten so used to her cold treatment of him that her warmth tonight was jarring. He hadn't seen her smile at him with such frank joy at his presence since the Saturday in his bed when she had told him his eyes were pretty. Her preference of him to other blokes had been just a well-reasoned conjecture before tonight, but now there was undeniable proof. The alcohol had stripped away all of her inhibitions and pride, and without them, she was giddy just to sit next to him at a card table.

That was heady and stirring. He'd been hard since that first deal. Which had only made him surly.

He knew what was coming. Of course, Lily was going to throw herself at him—she was drunk. Having abstained all night, James had no such excuse for falling under her spell. In the morning, they'd both regret it. In the morning, she'd be mad at him again, and he still wouldn't be Snape.

Addendum: Lily preferred James to every bloke but one.

He gently set Lily on her bed, but she immediately sat up. She shrugged off his cloak, which he had bundled her in for the trip. One strap of her gown had fallen off her shoulder and was brushing her elbow. There was a glint in her eye, an eagerness and a naughtiness that did not bode well. Oh hell, he needed to get out of this room.

James grabbed up his cloak and turned to go.

"Wait!" Lily said.

And James froze, knowing, as he did it, that it was a surrender. God help him, he was giving in. The persistent organ in his pants throbbed, and he had to bite back a groan. His head didn't like it, but his head could mind its own damn business.

"I need your help."

James swallowed. "Removing your dress?"

Lily giggled. "No, I can do that on my own just fine. We're not going to have sex James."

He turned around to look at her. She seemed serious. He didn't know what was stronger: his disappointment, or his relief.

"This is my parents' house. Dumbledore's talking to was embarrassing enough, I don't want to go through that again with Mum and Dad."

James nodded, but his mouth was still dry. The disappointment, he thought, was stronger. His body had missed hers, but it was more than that. Lily had never said no to sex before, and her carnal urges were foremost when she was intoxicated, he knew that from experience. If she wasn't going to try to seduce him, he'd lost the one hold he'd had over her. Maybe she was getting over him.

"I need you to cast a spell for me," she said.

"What do you need?" His voice was quieter than he expected.

"Imper—Imperturbable." It took her two tries to get it out.

James shook his head. "I can't. I've never been able to get that one right."

She smiled at him. "I'll teach you." She hopped down from the bed and righted the strap of her dress. "Take out your wand."

Obediently, he drew his wand from the breast pocket of his jacket. She placed her hand over his, and he suppressed a tremble as well as he could manage. Her fingers were warm against his, which had been prey to the January air, and his heartbeat was loud in his ears. She was so lovely and far too close. It seemed incredible to him that he'd ever had the strength to chuck her. He still thought it had been the right decision; staying in a relationship with a girl he loved who didn't love him back was a bad idea. Just the same, knowing it had been a good move didn't alleviate the regret he felt that things couldn't have been different between them.

He thought, perhaps, that she had done the best she was able. Her first love had broken her heart. James truly understood that concept for the first time in his life—after all, his first love had broken his heart now, too. Of course she had been cautious, skittish. She had been afraid of feeling…like this. James had been her rebound; he'd known that from the beginning, and he'd thought he understood. He'd be the white knight who mended her heart, who was all the things Snape wasn't, and she would grow to love him for it. Really, he'd had it all wrong. Rebound relationships were supposed to be safe, training charms back on the broom and all that. He'd never stood a chance, because she'd never intended to give him one.

Lily guided his wand movement with her hand, and patiently explained the intricacies of the spell. He cast an Imperturbable for the first time in his life in Lily Evans' bedroom, with her hand over his. She beamed at his success and kissed his cheek briefly, before making her way over to a shelf behind him.

It occurred to him that if she had enough of her faculties to teach him the spell, she probably could have just cast it herself. When he voiced this thought, she answered him without turning around.

"Sirius confiscated my wand at the party earlier tonight." She was searching through a collection of albums. "Didn't want me to accidentally Jelly-Legs myself."

James tensed a bit at that piece of information. The notion that he had been dismissing, the Lily and Sirius notion, presented itself once more. James was more certain than ever after tonight that Sirius had no designs on Lily. But what about her? She had learned to like Sirius as a friend, what if she was learning to like him as more?

"The two of you have been spending a lot of time together over the holiday then?"

"Yes," Lily replied. "He came over for Christmas dinner. I didn't want him to be alone."

James felt a rush of guilt.

"My dad doesn't like him because he kept flirting with my mum and Tuney—thinks he's too smarmy for his own good. He helped Mum with the dishes, though, so she thinks he's the best boy I've ever brought home. And poor Petunia! She was twitchy out of her mind, and I couldn't tell if that was just because he's a wizard or because he's so handsome. Either way, she barely said a word the whole night. So, all and all, a victory." She found the album she was looking for, and turned to face him.

"Sirius and I were supposed to play chess tonight," she continued, "but I should have known he'd trick me into going to the party."

James took in the sight of her. That dress probably cost more than this house. "Did Sirius buy you that?" James would kill him if he did.

Lily shook her head. "Stole it from his mum's closet of old costumes. He wanted me to spill something on it, but I couldn't. It's too beautiful."

James nodded. It was at that, though he thought the girl greatly improved it.

She withdrew the record from its sleeve and walked to the corner where the player was set up. The song began and she closed her eyes, as though letting it wash over her.

"Aren't you sick of music after tonight?"

"I have this one stuck in my head."

Sure enough, in a few seconds James recognized the words as the ones she'd been singing while he had carried her through the window.

She faced him. "Dance with me, James."

"I don't think that's wise." His eyes flickered, once more, to her bed.

Lily put her arms around his neck and leaned into him as though he hadn't spoken.

"So long as you're not sick on my trousers again," he conceded and she giggled.

James was stiff at first, but eventually began to move to the slow, sad music. His arms wrapped themselves around her of their own volition. It wasn't really dancing, more swaying, and Lily nestled herself into his shoulder and sighed his name.

"You don't have to call me James," he said softly.

"Hmm?"

"You don't have to call me James," he repeated. "I know you feel guilty, and it's all right. It doesn't bother me anymore."

She was silent for several seconds. "It bothers me." She looked up at him, studying his face. Her jaw took on a determined set, as though she were bracing herself. "The name thing is everything that went wrong in our relationship. It wasn't that I didn't want to call you James. I was just stubborn."

They weren't moving to the music anymore.

"I was just scared."

James tried to pull back, but she didn't let him.

"And, there's an even bigger secret I'm keeping from you."

What was she on about? She was so earnest, but she wasn't really making much sense. He knew that she was still tipsy to some degree. It had been three hours since her last glass of champagne and she'd sobered up considerably from her state at the party, but that didn't mean she wasn't still pissed.

"Okay," he decided to play along. "What secret was this?"

She chewed her lip, and her eyes were quite wide. Whatever it was, she didn't want to say it.

"You don't have to…" he tried to let her off the hook.

"I love you," she blurted at the same time.

James stared at her. "What?" he said slowly.

Her face was red and he felt her hands trembling as she held onto his arms. "I love you. I'm in love with you."

James drew back. "You're drunk, Lily."

"Yes," she said.

Awkward silence stretched between them and she fidgeted. "I had to tell you."

"Did you?" he snapped.

"You thought it was all about sex. I couldn't let you think that, especially since it upset you so much." Her tone was defensive.

James pried himself free of Lily's hold. "I'm not Snape, Lily."

"I know that," she said. "Before, when I said…I didn't mean that you couldn't compete with him, I meant that he couldn't compete with you."

James snorted and his voice rose. "We both know that's a load of crap."

Lily shook her head, tears were welling in her eyes. "He _frightens_ me, James. He's so different—I don't even recognize him. Do…do you know what he did?"

No, James did not. He had wondered for some time what Snape had done to Lily to make her so wounded. But he would not give her the satisfaction of asking.

She answered anyway.

"He took a Dark Mark," she sobbed.

That was the least surprising news James had heard in a while, but he could tell it had been quite the revelation to her.

"He wants to hurt people, people like me. How could I love someone like that?"

The picture was getting clearer for James now. How could she indeed? And yet, she had. To love someone and yet be so thoroughly horrified by their choices, their actions—that had to cause a fair amount of dissonance. No wonder she had been so guarded with him.

Evidently, she had worked herself up into a lather, desperate to move on, trying to convince herself that her rebound relationship had actually meant something.

He tried not to get angry with her. But it was hard.

"Lily, you've had a long day. Why don't we get you into bed?" he gestured to the mattress against the back of his knees.

She covered her face with her hands. "Damn it," she moaned as she wiped away her tears. "This was the worst possible time to have this conversation, wasn't it? You're not taking me seriously at all, are you?"

He said nothing.

She sighed. "I didn't think we'd both be drunk."

James did not correct her. Hot resentment was rising in him.

Lily took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then looked at him squarely. "James, I may have had a few drinks tonight, but I know what I'm saying. I love you. Not from the start, but you crept up on me. The sex…it wasn't just about that. I was mad about you, James."

He stared at her for a long moment, not even daring to swallow. Without another word, James stalked to her window and ducked out of her room, leaving her behind.


	18. Draught of Titania

**18**

**Draught of Titania**

"You hear about this?" Sirius' voice broke through Lily's daydream. He tapped the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ he held in his hands. "A rogue Antipodean Opaleye went on a rampage in Australia and killed a whole mess of kangaroos."

Lily made a noise of interest in her throat before pretending to return to her Ancient Runes essay. The words swam before her as she sank back into her thoughts. She had been depressed over the last few days, but that couldn't be helped. She had thought that telling James she loved him would make things better, and it had to some degree. She felt relieved having purged, but James' reaction was unexpected. Swaying in his warm arms, lulled by the music and the smell of the cigar smoke clinging to his jacket, Lily had somehow thought that the moment was right. How ridiculous of her; but then, she wasn't the first girl to make a poor decision under the influence of alcohol.

He'd been less cold since they returned to Hogwarts, but she wasn't sure how receptive she should be, what with the panties she'd found in her room.

"Sirius?"

"What, love?"

She worried her lip, but it was only a token hesitation; she'd already made up her mind. She'd invited Sirius over to the Head Dormitories to study with her, and he was dawdling as usual, but it was a ruse. He was a valuable source of information, after all. How could she not take advantage of that?

When they had returned to school two days ago, she had been doing some moderate tidying in search of a pair of earrings when she had found something quite alarming: knickers. Knickers that were not hers, mixed in with all the things James had returned to her. Why? Had he found them and just assumed that they were hers? That had to be it, because she couldn't bring herself to believe that James would be so angry and so low as to rub her face in his indiscretions.

"I know that James is your best friend and your first loyalty is to him, but may I ask you a question?"

He sat back. "Sure."

Whatever his easy manner, Lily could see the reservation he was feeling come over him at her words.

"James…" Lily took a deep breath. "…does he cheat on his girlfriends?"

Sirius considered and then shook his head. "Not really, no."

_Not really?_ "What does that mean?"

"It means that there was this one time when he was sort of with Bridget and he had this thing with Hera. But he and Bridget weren't official or anything; and when he told her, she didn't care," he elaborated. "Prongs isn't usually with a girl very long—Lida was an anomaly. He gets bored with most girls after a few shags, but he tries to make the break official before he gets his cock wet elsewhere, even if it's only by a few hours."

The blood drained from her face. None of that was encouraging. _Oh, God! Was James already sleeping with other girls?_ The mere thought left her nauseated. She remembered how easily the school had believed the gossip that James had cheated on Alida with her.

Sirius saw her face and quickly reassured her. "None of that applies to you, you goose. Trust me, he's not bored with you sexually."

Lily chewed her lip. "I-I think James may have cheated on me while we were together."

"Impossible," he said, shaking his head. "You two barely left that bed for lessons and meals. When would he have even had the time, let alone the energy?"

"I'm not kidding, Sirius."

"Nor am I. James isn't the sort. He may have had his fair share of skirt, but he's always been a one woman at a time sort of bastard."

"This isn't random paranoia talking. I have evidence."

Sirius' face was visibly skeptical. "Show it to me."

With a determined set to her shoulders, Lily rose from the study table and made her way up to her rooms to fetch the panties that were _not_ hers. She liked her under things soft, lacy, and feminine. These were tacky—they had a roaring Gryffindor lion on the bum for Merlin's sake. That they were clearly a Gryffindor girl's knickers was the most damning thing about them, actually. James had not dated another Gryffindor since Esther Mumps in his fifth year. His rooms this year were new, so the panties couldn't be left over from her.

When Lily arrived, she sighed at the sight of the two kittens curled up on her bed. Try as she might to keep Pumpkin out, the cat was doing everything in her power not to respect Lily's wishes. Today she had an accomplice in the form of her sister, Sirius' cat, Dandelion. Sirius often brought her with him when he came, which surprised Lily. Where James spent at least a few minutes every day petting and playing with Pumpkin, Sirius largely ignored his pet. The most attention he had ever paid her was in changing her name from Carrot, the name Alida had given her _(really, what was wrong with that girl?),_ to Dandelion. When Lily had asked him about the re-christening, he'd explained that Carrot was a stupid name (Lily needed no convincing), and that he'd rather call her after the lead singer of Merlin's Beards, Dandelion Whisher, whom he quite fancied. Lily thought that Dandelion wasn't much of an improvement, but she had kept that opinion to herself.

Lily shooed the two kittens from her rooms and retrieved the knickers from her bedside table drawer where she'd stashed them.

When she presented them to Sirius, he did not react the way she expected.

His eyes widened and he snatched them from her hands. "Oh, hell yes!" Then he cackled, and pocketed them.

"I take it you recognize them?"

He grinned. "They're mine."

Lily's brows came together and she may have taken a step backward.

"No," he laughed at her reaction. "Not what you're thinking. They were Integra's, like three years ago. She gave them to me."

"Why did James have them?"

"Because he's a ruddy thief." Sirius reclined in his seat. "Tegra slept with the both of us fourth year. She liked me better and gave them to me as a souvenir. James found out and got all jealous and grabby. He stole them, I stole them back, he stole them again, and so on and so forth. He took them from me this summer, and I had forgotten I needed to steal them back, so thank you."

Lily shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I know this may be hard for you to accept, Lily," he said gravely, "but I am better in bed than Prongs."

She snorted skeptically. "That's not what I'm talking about. If what you're saying is true, then James knows damn well those knickers aren't mine. Why would he put them with the rest of my things and dump them outside my door?"

"Were your things all neatly organized? Clothes folded? Even the socks?"

Lily thought back. "Yeah."

Sirius smirked. "Ten Galleons says he bribed a house elf to do it."

"On what do you base that?" she demanded.

"He bribes house elves for everything. Has he ever taken you on a picnic?"

Lily thought of the breakfast she and James had shared in the Shrieking Shack. "Yes."

"Even with all the shagging the two of you were doing, did he always have fresh sheets?"

"Yes," Lily's voice was smaller this time.

"Do you really think James was doing that stuff himself?"

She felt foolish for not thinking it through before.

"And you said he left your things right outside your door?"

"Yeah." She knew where this was going.

"How? He can't walk up those stairs."

"He could have levitated the basket up there," she argued stubbornly.

Sirius' expression said that now she was just being silly. "Yes, he could have. But is that really the likeliest scenario?"

She chewed her lip.

Sirius withdrew the knickers from his pocket. "Lily, I swear to you that these were Integra's and now they are mine."

Finally, Lily nodded her head in acceptance. She believed him.

He re-pocketed them, and his grin was back. "But why so insecure, love? We all know James was completely besotted when he was with you."

Lily sniffed scornfully and returned to her chair beside Sirius at the study table.

He chuckled at her bad temper. "Now, don't be a bitch. So James didn't fuck your brains out New Year's. It's no reason to punish me."

She looked at him sharply.

He rolled his eyes. "It's rather plain that my first foray into matchmaking did not go as planned."

"No," she snapped. "No, it did not." She knew that none of her problems were his fault—not really. Still, if he hadn't taken it upon himself to try to throw James into her bed, she might not have ruined everything.

"I thought he was ripe," Sirius' tone was defensive.

"_He_ was," Lily shot back. "But I didn't want to—well, I_ did_ want to, it's just…. The idea that I had used him for sex really seemed to be bothering him, and I thought it might make both of us feel better if I told him the truth." She felt herself deflate as she said the words. Her anger was gone and nothing was left but the shame.

"But he didn't take it well."

Lily looked at her friend. He _did_ understand James well enough to help.

"No, he got angry. And I don't think he took me seriously—he thought I was just drunk."

Sirius smirked. "You _were_ drunk, Lily."

"He was really fixated on Severus."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "He's always going to worry about Snape a bit."

"Well, he needs to get over it, because I don't love Severus anymore."

"I don't think Sniv is your biggest problem, anyway," Sirius said dismissively.

Lily swallowed as she realized to what he was referring, then groaned and covered her face with her hands. "Sex. Stupid, stupid sex."

"Oh now, now! Let's not say things in anger we'll regret later," he chided in singsong.

Lily didn't smile. "Sex really screwed us up, Sirius. I was insatiable, I mean, we both were. But mostly me."

He lifted a brow at her. "Well, goddamn. Would that I had Prongs' problems."

"It's not entirely my fault," she said, wishing that Sirius would stop taking the piss already. "I knew that I wanted him, but I didn't realize it would get out of hand until it was too late. It was—it was different with him. I never felt that way with Rafe or Severus. With them it was just…nice. With James, I was _ravenous_." She slammed her textbook shut. If Sirius made one more joke she'd…she'd…. Did he actually look pensive?

He was silent for almost a minute, and when he finally spoke his voice was somber. "It was like that with Maggie."

"Maggie?"

Sirius rubbed a hand against his mouth briefly before nodding. "A shag was just a shag before her. One taste and I couldn't keep my dick out of her." He looked away. "And she…she was crazy. She'd do anything, try anything. Kinky, kinky shit. After a while, that's all our relationship was. It wasn't about…how we felt, or any of that poncy rubbish. It was just about rutting. Before we knew it, well, that was that."

Lily gaped at Sirius. This was the first time she'd ever seen him truly sincere; it was a worrisome sight. His eyes were unfixed and so hollow. Just what did he keep buried in there?

"Did…" Lily stopped and licked her lips. "Did you love her?"

"Maybe." He tossed aside the rolled up copy of the _Prophet_. "But I'm inclined to say no. Maggie and I, I think, were just obsessed with each other. Of course, things are so tits up now it's hard to tell."

She considered placing her hand over his to comfort him, but decided against it. He didn't want to be touched right now, she was sure of it. "Isn't-isn't there anything you can do? To mend things with her, I mean."

Sirius laughed bitterly. "Nah, don't want to. That whole business with Maggie is fouled beyond salvaging. Besides, even if I did love her once, I sure as hell don't now. There's nothing there for me, not anymore." He met her gaze for the first time since his mood shifted. "You and James, though, you've got a shot."

Lily smiled weakly. She wasn't so sure about that. "What about _you_ and James?" she deflected. "Are you talking now?"

Sirius smirked. "Oh, we'll be fine. He's not even really mad at me."

She was skeptical. "Is that so?"

"Sure. I mean, James loves you, but he loves me more."

All the mirth faded in Lily. "James doesn't love me."

Sirius scoffed.

"He doesn't!"

"Sweetheart, Prongs has loved you from the moment he clapped eyes on you." His voice sounded almost angry.

Lily made a face. "He's loved a version of me that existed only in his head: an idealized twit with no annoying habits, no character flaws, and no past with Severus Snape. I'm not her, Sirius."

He raised his brows. "Noted. But give James a little credit here. He's always known you weren't perfect—you've been doing things that drive him barmy since day one. Sure, maybe he loved a you that wasn't the real you, but that was before." Sirius sat looking toward her and tucked his hair behind his ear so that it wasn't hanging in his face. "Look, you used to have a distorted version of him in your head and you hated him, yeah?"

She nodded.

"Well, if you grew love from hate, why is it so hard to believe that James could grow love from love?" The hard edge in his voice was growing. "Love that might be a little guarded because of the uncertainty of your feelings? Love that might get a little shirty at the thought of you wanting sex from him but loving someone else?"

Lily's blood was racing and she could hear it pounding in her ears. Merlin, what he said made a kind of sense. Did…did she dare consider it?

Sirius knew James, inside and out. Lily had once heard Professor Lemniscate joke that the two of them shared a brain. He had not steered her wrong regarding James before, but this…. This was huge. Believing Sirius would require quite the leap of faith. He hadn't been talking to James for a while and he could be so very, very wrong.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Sirius growled. "Believe what you want. But if you and Prongs don't work this out soon, it'll be a bloody waste."

* * *

Severus hated working with Ashwinder eggs. If one weren't careful, they could burn a hole right through a cauldron. Also, they were essential ingredients in love potions, like the one he had stooped to brew today. Love potions, in his opinion, were an inferior branch of potion making: fanciful nonsense for the delusional and the lazy. One could brew many things, but not love. What was produced was a pale, temporary imitation of the reality—and the reality was hardly a desirable state.

His mother had demonstrated with great thoroughness the atrocious havoc love wreaked on those unfortunate enough to fall into it. A powerful, pure-blood witch cowering from the fists of her Muggle husband, refusing to flee from his side. That's what love was: weakness. _Eternal_ weakness, for through the example of his mother, Severus had learned that the most disastrous thing about love was that it was forever: a terminal, incurable misery.

Why anyone would want to bottle that baffled him. Lust was different matter; he could understand the logic there, even if the prospect didn't appeal to him. The purple potion before him bubbled merrily, smelled sweet, and Severus was aware that a sip of this would make Lily his again for a time. But rape, and it would be rape no matter how enthusiastically she participated, seemed hollow. A manufactured and disingenuous connection, one that did her harm in the process no less, could never satisfy his need.

Perhaps, at this point, nothing could.

His thoughts fixated on her more often than he would like in the last few weeks. He couldn't fathom why. She'd played Potter for a fool, which made him smile, but was now Black's little plaything. Perhaps Lupin and Pettigrew were next and she wouldn't be content until she had been in the beds of all four of his tormentors? If that were the case, Severus couldn't help but think it was all for his benefit. Was her relationship with Potter about sticking a knife in his back? Was this new development with Black about twisting it?

He wished he could say that was a comforting thought, but it wasn't. Potter and Black had put their grimy hands all over her. Those cretins had been _inside_ her, for Merlin's sake. The mere thought of it caused disgust and fury to well in him, no matter her motivation.

Deep down, however, he doubted that Lily had been thinking of him when she'd chosen her most recent beaus. Not much at least. Thus, it was about Potter, it was about Black. She _liked_ them.

So how could it be that he still wanted her?

He supposed he was just lucky to have escaped her clutches with his wits intact. Potter was plainly getting little if any sleep, had turned introspective and moody. It was entertaining to watch Potter flounder, but Severus was aware he was looking into a mirror of sorts of how it might have been if he had been so foolish as to totally fall for Lily Evans, as his rival evidently had.

The Ashwinder eggs joined the basil and the sliced Crup heart in the cauldron. All that was left to be stirred in was the pansies. He had already ground the flowers into a paste, so adding them was a simple matter. They made the lavender slop turn a deep indigo color.

Severus rose and began the clean up process while the potion finished at a simmer. He glanced at the clock; Alida would be arriving to claim her prize shortly. He couldn't help but have some reservations about giving it to her. Lucius had told him what Cornfoot had done to Maggie Bagnold, and while Severus thought that thugs who forced themselves on inebriated girls deserved punishment, he wasn't so sure they deserved one of the caliber of Alida's making.

He studied the unctuous liquid in the cauldron for a moment. There was far more than she would need to get her revenge on Keagan Cornfoot. Brewing the Draught of Titania for her in the first place was irresponsible; giving her extra to do with as she pleased would be unconscionable.

Severus ladled a single dose into the empty, waiting phial. He vanished the rest.

Alida turned up shortly afterward. She looked a bit sick to her stomach, as though she might be having second thoughts.

"You'll want to use that directly, while it's still warm," he informed her. "Once it cools, it's useless."

It wasn't his job to be her conscience. As far as he was concerned, his involvement ended here. Whatever happened to Cornfoot now was out of his hands.

She thanked him for his work, and her thumb teased the stopper a moment before she slipped the phial into the pocket of her robes. If she was interested in where the rest of the potion was, she did not ask. Alida loitered a moment more, as though hoping he had more to tell her, to detain her, but he just stared at her coldly and she left.

It was with the feeling of a burden being lifted that Severus finished his clean up. Just brewing the love potion had made him uneasy, though not nearly as much as the concoction in the largest cauldron in the back corner. That one was on its fourth brew already, and the Dark Lord was growing ever more impatient. Really, Severus longed to just focus on the rest, the eight poisons and four experimental antidotes for his Potions Master license. It wasn't as though he didn't appreciate the challenge the Dark Lord's potion presented—quite the contrary. He was so close to getting the balance of ingredients right he could almost taste it, and that was something he regarded with unadulterated smugness. It was more that he was beginning to feel dirty just having the stuff in the same room with him.

He would put the Dark Lord's project from his mind for now. Today, he would work toward his Potions Master license.

It was almost an hour later when he walked to get samples of two poisons at a brewing table far to his right that he encountered a sight that froze his very blood. Empty. Both of the cauldrons were empty, dry, their deadly liquid nowhere to be found.

* * *

James absently tapped his square of blotting parchment with the tip of his quill. He was contemplating a letter to the Ministry. After all, he had to do _something_ with the information that Severus Snape was a bona fide Death Eater.

His first thought had been to follow the same path he had last time he came into this sort of knowledge. After he and Sirius had stolen the note at the Lestrange wedding on a lark, only to be shocked to realize just what they had, James had gone straight to his father. His father had taken care of everything. Aurors had hunted down Dexter Pucey and, thank God, the young Death Eater had not been able to complete his mission.

James had considered his father first, after relaying the tale of the note to Remus and Peter, who had been waiting up for him. But then it occurred to James that as a student of Hogwarts, Snape was really Dumbledore's province. Monday, James had made an appointment with the headmaster, only to be dismayed by Dumbledore's reaction.

"Well, young Mr. Snape has certainly been careless with that secret, hasn't he?"

It had taken James a moment to process it, but Dumbledore knew—_he already knew!_ He had reassured James that it was being "handled," but that hadn't mollified James at all. Merlin only knew what Voldemort was asking of Snape, would ask of Snape in the future. But would a letter from a barely-of-age Hogwarts student be taken seriously by the Auror Department? Or would James have to go through his father again?

What didn't strike him until sometime after his meeting with Dumbledore was that for the headmaster to know, someone would have had to tell him. Whatever Dumbledore joked, James very much doubted Snape was playing fast and loose with this information. That brought forward the person who had told James.

Had _Lily_ told Dumbledore?

If so, that heartened James. It meant that her affection for the greasy git had not blinded her to what was at stake. It meant that she truly had been so horrified by Snape's betrayal as to fully recoil. It lent credence to the verbal vomit she'd let loose New Year's morning.

He hadn't been able to stop thinking about that. Mulling over, replaying each word Lily had said filled his every waking hour since the night itself.

_I'm in love with you…. The sex…it wasn't just about that. I was mad about you, James._

The truth was he'd been terrified to hear those words; perhaps a little that they were true, but mostly that they weren't.

The muted blue of her bedroom had been had been an ethereal place where all that had been palpable was Lily's body in his arms and his overwhelming need to have her closer. It was entirely likely that she had simply been swept up in the moment. He very nearly had. If not for her sobering earnestness, he might have sunk into oblivion with her. The idea that these might just be things she believed in the moment, in her intoxication, not things that actually were, had chased him from her room.

But Lily had planted a seed with her words, a seed that was growing, demanding attention. What if every bit of it was true? What if Lily loved him, not Snape?

If he were honest with himself, he'd never actually expected success in his plan to win her. Cocksure though he was, Lily had refused him for years. It was like the dream of dating Lily or shagging Lily: the reality had never in fact seemed attainable until he was right in the thick of it.

_Was_ he in the thick of it now? Lily's…love?

He swallowed heavily, the very possibility causing his heart to pound and his hands to shake. He thought of the way she had looked at him at the party. The champagne had left her expressions unguarded, naked. Her gaze had been full of glee when their hands touched briefly at the card table, of trust when he'd scooped her up to take her home, of affection when she'd taught him the Imperturbable Charm, of pain when he didn't believe her entreaties. She had been all warmth and sincerity.

It had seemed so hopeless when he'd discovered her past with Snape, but perhaps something had been budding within her. Perhaps he had given up the chase too soon.

Of course, she'd been a bit aloof since, but that made sense when James thought about it. After all, how could she have interpreted his abrupt departure as anything but a rejection? It struck him as sort of funny when he thought of it; he had taken his love for Lily for granted as fact of life, yet, whether her love be actualized or merely anticipated, she had been the one to say it first. He had never mustered the courage to tell her how he felt, and when she had finally declared herself to him, he'd climbed out her window and into the snow.

James sighed and threw down his quill. This was a dangerous train of thought. Maybe Lily loved him, but maybe she did not.

Just then, the girl of his thoughts intruded on his sanctuary. Lily paused when she saw him, then smiled. "You're here early."

"So are you," he said as he casually gathered his drafts of the letter to the Ministry and dropped them into his bag. He wasn't sure how she would react if she knew he was hoping to get Snape arrested.

She sat beside him at the twin desk facing the room where the Head Boy and Girl addressed the prefects and held meetings. "Honestly, I'm behind. I haven't finished the itinerary for the east wing cleanup, Dumbledore needs a progress report on the tutoring program, and I still haven't finished up this month's patrol rounds schedule."

James spread his palms. "I did the Slytherins and the Hufflepuffs."

"Yes, you did," she said as she withdrew the partially complete schedule from her bag. "Just like a good boy."

He blinked. James fought the urge to peddle his feet against the floor and scoot his chair away from hers. Was Lily _flirting_ with him? She certainly wasn't frosty anymore, as she had been that morning, but she hadn't thawed completely either. He took in her body language, and she was still quite guarded.

James began studying his notes for the meeting, but he couldn't seem to keep from stealing glances at her while she worked, and more than once he got caught. She was blushing—he loved it that she still did that.

"What?" she finally demanded.

He was staring, that was what, and she very well knew it. He tried, and failed, to keep a rakish grin from his lips. "Just curious about the rounds schedule," he said easily.

She raised a brow at him, but moved her arm out of the way to give him a better view of her parchment. He studied it, more for show and an excuse to lean closer to her than anything. He heard her breathing speed up slightly when he did that, and felt a surge of satisfaction. He knew he shouldn't get her worked up just for the hell of it, but he liked the idea of her wet while they led the prefect meeting. For extra measure, he bumped his shoulder against hers briefly.

As his eyes scanned the calendar, he felt his stomach turn over. She had scheduled him to patrol with her tonight, just the two of them, roaming the dark halls of the school. His blood heated at the thought of all the times they had patrolled together before. In the broom cupboard in the Entrance Hall, against the wall in the trophy room, in the prefects' bath, bent over Professor Mudan's desk, behind a tapestry on the fifth floor—he'd fucked her everywhere. After their first time in early November, they'd never made it more than an hour into rounds without engaging in some rule-breaking themselves. He'd even convinced Lily to let him fulfill his fantasy in Binns' classroom. She'd sat in her old desk with her knickers pulled down to her ankles; he'd crawled beneath and made love to her with his mouth.

Had she been thinking of that when she'd filled in their names?

Now he was getting worked up, too. If he wasn't careful, they'd wind up locking the prefects out while he took her on this very desk.

Her green eyes were spooked. He'd succeeded, he knew, in unsettling her completely. He tried to smile, but found he couldn't. Suddenly, messing with her didn't seem like harmless fun. Merlin, what was wrong with him? This was his heart he was playing with, for fuck's sake.

James pulled back from her. "I can't patrol with you tonight. I have plans," he told her flatly.

Her face colored and she looked down. "Oh."

The way she said that one little word made him want to take it all back, but he did not. She took out her wand and moved his name from tonight to tomorrow. Then she studied the schedule for a long minute before picking up her quill and writing Remus' name where his had been.

His jaw tightened and he had to restrain himself from saying that Remus wasn't available either, but then something clicked into place in his head. Wait, Remus _really_ couldn't patrol with her. And James really couldn't also.

"Remus is in the hospital wing."

Her brows knit for a moment and then her face lit up with understanding. "That's right! I forgot."

The way she said those words was entirely too knowing.

"Well then, I'll patrol with Maisy Watkins tonight, and Remus can patrol with Caleb Pontipee next week."

That arrangement was more to James' liking, but his jealousy was hardly the most pressing issue anymore.

"You knew Remus was in the hospital wing? I wasn't aware he'd told anyone."

Lily looked a bit flustered. "Well…it is…it's the full moon, isn't it?" she managed.

James was glad he was already sitting. "How do you know about any of that?" he demanded. Damn it. He'd fucked up—he knew it was him. He should have been more careful, more mindful of the gravity of Remus' secret.

Her skin was flushed again. She leaned toward him and spoke in a whisper, though they were still alone. "Remus told me."

That was the last explanation he expected to hear. Remus didn't tell anyone. "When the hell was this?"

She looked, if anything, more uncomfortable than before. "The night you broke up with me. It's why I was so late coming back from patrol."

"He just…told you?" James was gobsmacked.

But she shook her head. "I asked him. I'd been watching and I was reasonably sure—the signs were all there. He just confirmed it."

So it had been him, in an oblique sort of way. Why hadn't Remus said anything?

James studied her; she was remarkably calm considering. "And you're okay with this?"

Lily bit her lip. "I wasn't thrilled," she confessed, "but I've had friends turn out to be worse."

Snape. Right. A werewolf probably seemed like nothing after that.

"You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

She shook her head. "The only person I would feel an obligation to tell is Dumbledore, and he already knows."

There the possibility goaded him again, tantalizing. His pulse set to racing. Bugger all, he was just going to ask. "Did…you tell Dumbledore about Snape?"

Lily looked somewhat affronted. "Of course. It would have been really irresponsible not to."

James puffed a laugh of relief. Merlin help him, he had a daft grin on his face—he knew he did. Without thinking, considering the implications or the consequences, James leaned forward and joyfully kissed Lily.

When he pulled back, every bit of her looked startled. Her eyes were wide, mesmerizing, and he was fairly certain she'd never stared at him with such intensity. Her scrutiny did not waver for several long seconds, and then the corners of her mouth began to move upward.

Suddenly his skin burned hot and his tie felt tight on his neck. He cleared his throat in an effort to break the tension and made to go back to his notes, but Lily was smiling too brightly to be ignored.

"Sirius was right," she announced.

James looked at her sharply. And then she kissed him. It was as celebratory as his had been moments ago. He considered disengaging, but then asked himself just who he thought he was fooling. He kissed her back, returning her passion and then some. Her arms wrapped around him, fingers entangling in his hair.

Lily's lips broke from his and began peppering the skin of his face with little kisses. "You love me," she giggled against his cheek.

James' eyes snapped open. "No I don't!"

Her smile didn't fade, and when she spoke she was so excited she was barely coherent. "Yes you do. Sirius said that you—but I doubted, that is, until I started to really think about it. Then everything made sense, it all seemed to _fit_, and you…the way you just looked at me…." She kissed him again, hard on the mouth, and moved from her chair to his lap.

That bloody turncoat! What made Sirius think he could go and tell Lily something like that?

For a moment he felt sullen, but it was impossible to remain that way for more than a moment with Lily's lips, infectious with delight, pressed to his. Sullen became resigned. Who was he fooling? Not her, not anymore. Before she had merely had him at her feet, but now she _knew_ that she did, and he would never be able to dissuade her of that.

"You love me," she said again when they came up for air.

He closed his eyes and swallowed. "Yes."

She snorted in amusement. "Well, don't look so pleased about it."

"What do you want me to say?" he said with a glare.

Lily lightly pressed her lips to bridge of his nose. "You can trust me," she promised. "I love you too, remember? It will be better this time."

"We're broken up."

"The hell we are," Lily dismissed airily.

James was finding it hard to breathe as he looked up at her. A lump expanded in his throat, but he swallowed it down. Instead, he threaded his fingers into her hair, pulled her closer, and kissed her again. Fuck it!

She was happy, positively giddy at this new information. If he'd known she'd react this way, he might've told her ages ago. Except, of course, that it was completely humiliating. Why on earth did blokes _ever_ admit this to their girls? James had never felt so vulnerable and trapped in his life. Lily now held so much power, and he had no defenses should she abuse it.

James stood, lifting Lily from his lap to the desk. He slid his hands underneath her skirt and tugged her knickers down her legs, letting them drop to the floor. Lily protested, but James smothered her words with his mouth. He needed to take control of this moment. He had to, or he'd never be able to face her on equal footing again. He flipped up her skirt, spread her thighs with his hands, and dropped to his knees between them. He didn't even pause to catch his breath before going to work on her pretty little cunny.

Any misgivings Lily may have had about jumping back into a physical relationship, in a public place no less, were clearly gone the moment his tongue touched her clit.

"Fuck! James, oh…_God_!"

Yes, it seemed her body was still rabid for him. It was some small consolation, and one of which he planned to take full advantage. As soon as he made her come with his mouth, his next order of business would be to turn her over and rut her raw.

There was one part of the equation he had forgotten, however. In his desperation and her lust, they had forgotten to lock the door.

"Good lord!" a startled voice rang through the room.

James immediately leapt to his feet and Lily was throwing her skirt modestly over her thighs.

Rory Pye was gaping at them, dumbstruck. "What is wrong with you two? Don't you think that's a shade inappropriate for the _prefect_ meeting room?"

Lily moaned in humiliation. James noticed she had wedged herself behind him so that she was mostly hidden from their intruder.

"What the hell do you want, Pye? The meeting doesn't start for another twenty bloody minutes." James couldn't help his hostility. It had been over a month since he'd had Lily; his cock was starved for her and didn't take kindly to interruption.

Pye was immediately indignant. "Professor McGonagall sent me to fetch the two of you. There's been a crisis of some sort." The Hufflepuff sniffed. "If you're occupied with more important matters, however, I'm certain the Headmaster would understand."

James was sure he went a little pale at that, but Lily was now pushing her way around James. "A crisis? Where?"

"She asked that you report immediately to the Hospital Wing."

Lily began packing her work into her bag. "We'll be there straight away."

Pye nodded and, with one last disgusted look, left. James sank to sit on the desk behind him, his face in his hands.

"James, hurry," Lily hissed as she wriggled back into her knickers.

"Bloody fantastic," he muttered as though she hadn't spoken.

"What?"

She couldn't be serious. He knew that she had been called into Dumbledore's office as well. If Pye ratted them out, and Pye would—he was incapable of keeping rule breaking to himself—they would be right back. Their badges wouldn't survive a second disciplinary "no shagging in public!" Goddamn it, James had sworn he'd never end up back in the Headmaster's office, especially for something about which Dumbledore had been so very clear.

"I don't know who you saw just now, but I'm pretty sure that was fucking Pye. Dumbledore will hear about this inside the hour."

Lily shook her head. "He won't say anything."

James looked at her incredulously.

"He won't," she repeated. "I'll speak to him."

James was doubtful, but he swept his parchment, quill, and ink into his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

Lily extended her hand to him and she smiled. As he took it he knew, on a deeper and more profound level than he had thought existed, that life would be with her from here forward. The jig was up; he had loved her since always, now she knew it, and he would never be able to pretend otherwise again. Any attempt to keep his pride would be futile. As long as she would have him, he would be at her side.

She led him by the hand and toward the Hospital Wing. The silence between them was destroyed in the approach, however. They heard the screams before they even pushed open the door.

A young man that James did not immediately recognize as Keagan Cornfoot was writhing and screaming hysterically on a bed near a window, his hands drenched with blood. James felt Lily falter and heard her gasp shakily. Though thoroughly jarred himself, he squeezed her hand in a manner he hoped was reassuring.

James' eyes immediately swept the room for Remus, who was bolt upright and ashen-faced in a bed opposite Cornfoot. Madam Pomfrey was barking instructions to Kettleburn and Sprout, and blood was smeared all over their arms and clothing. McGonagall bustled from the office carrying large quantities of gauze and bandages. She saw James and Lily standing there as she passed the armful to Pomfrey, and then she was striding toward them.

"What the hell happened to him?" James asked before remembering himself.

McGonagall gave him a disapproving look, but said nothing about his inappropriate language. "It seems, Mr. Potter, that someone dosed him with a love potion that gave him amorous intentions toward Professor Sprout's prized Sycorax's Perennial. I'm afraid he attempted physical intimacy with one of its many mouths."

James gave an involuntary cry of horror as the pieces came together, his free had moving to cover his groin.

"Quite." McGonagall agreed with James' reaction with a curt nod.

"Who would do such a thing?" Lily's voice was filled with dismay. "And why?"

McGonagall huffed a tired sort of sigh. "We have yet to determine." Then, "The school has need of you. Curfew will come early tonight, and you two will be instrumental in maintaining order and enforcing that."

"Of course," Lily agreed immediately.

"I'm afraid I'm going to need to ask that the two of you patrol all night while the teachers sort through this mess and search for the culprit."

Lily was saying all the right things again, but James was not listening. He caught eyes with Remus once more. They had a problem, a big problem.

After McGonagall dismissed them and they exited the infirmary, James pulled Lily into a broom cupboard. "This isn't going to work," he told her. "It's a full moon."

Lily nodded. "Dumbledore knows that Remus needs to go to the Shrieking Shack to transform. It shouldn't be an issue."

James was shaking his head already. There was so much she still didn't know. "You don't understand. Remus doesn't transform alone. Sirius, Peter, and I are there with him, always."

She gasped. "That's not safe!"

"It's safer than you think," James retorted. "But that's not the point and I don't have time to explain. The point is Remus cannot be left to transform alone. Sirius or I have to be there—at the very least."

Her eyes were wide. "Why?"

"Because without us he can get out—Remus can get out. He'd be loose…all over Hogsmeade."

Lily looked horrorstruck. "That can't happen."

James agreed. "So Sirius and I should really be there."

"I can patrol alone," Lily said after a pause, her voice small.

James' eyes closed. He and his mates were caught this time he just knew it—not patrolling with Lily would draw too much attention. Dumbledore was going to find out about the excursions, about the three illegal Animagi traipsing around right under his nose. James was going to be expelled.

But there were bigger grindylows to fry just now. Keeping Remus contained was more important.

James kissed Lily. "You're the best."

He made to pull back, but Lily clung to him. "Be careful," she whispered against his chest. "I don't like the idea of you locked in that house with a werewolf."

He planted a kiss on the top of her head. "Don't worry, love. Full moon or not, I can take Remus."

* * *

Slughorn's face was white by the time Severus had stopped speaking.

He pushed by Severus and began moving through the room, frantically checking all the cauldrons. This was an inventory Severus had already completed. There were only the two that were empty. Only two cauldrons full of nerve-destroying, heart-stopping agents missing. Just enough to kill everyone in the school twice over, nothing more. Severus could feel his heart pounding in his ears, but the tips of his fingers were cold and numb. And shaking.

"The two that are gone, what were they?" Slughorn demanded.

Severus forced a swallow before he answered. "Hebenon and Thalot."

If possible, Slughorn looked sicker than he had before. He rubbed his bloated face with his hands. "I thought I told you to teach the door a password."

"I did," Severus said immediately, though he knew where this was going. Severus had told only Regulus the password. Merlin only knew whom that loose-tongued twit had told.

"Who else knows the password?"

Words deserted Severus entirely.

* * *

"Sirius!" James shouted up the corridor, over the heads of dozens of students. Between his height and his long, dark hair he wasn't difficult to spot, despite the crowd. Sirius' head whipped around at the sound of his name, and James made his way toward him. Sirius watched the approach as though he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

"If this is about Tegra's knickers or what I told Lily, I regret nothing."

"What? No, this is more important than all that," James said quickly. Then he paused. "Wait, you have Tegra's knickers again?"

Sirius nodded. "Maybe if you didn't have House Elves do your chores for you they wouldn't have been mixed in with the things you returned to Lily."

James choked for a moment in panic.

"Lily thought you had been cheating on her, by the way."

James groaned.

Sirius waived his hand. "Don't worry, I cleaned up that mess for you. Also, I've hidden the knickers where you'll never find them."

"Keep them," James declared readily. "That's two birds who saw them and got the wrong idea. Bloody bit of fabric's cursed."

"They were mine to begin with!"

"We don't have time to argue about this now!" James snapped.

"Don't be so loud," Peter had arrived and was shushing them both. "The whole corridor can hear you."

James sighed. "Tonight…is going to be bad."

"How so?" Peter asked warily.

"Did you hear about Cornfoot?"

Peter and Sirius both nodded. And thus began the explanation of the situation that they faced.

"We'll be expelled Prongs," Sirius said quietly. "With something like this going on, there is no way our absence will go unnoticed."

Peter gave a suffering squeak.

"But if we don't, Remus might hurt somebody," James argued.

Sirius wasn't done yet. "You got through the last full moon without me. Hell, you got through the last month and a half without me." Sirius' hurt, as always, was expressing itself as anger.

"Last month Remus wasn't riled by the smell of blood for hours before the transformation. He's going to be hungry tonight." James tried to remain as reasonable as possible. "And we've been miserable, all three of us, without you. You know that—don't pretend you don't."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but James could tell the words had gotten through to him.

"Please," James begged. "For Remus. We can't abandon him now, not when it's our fault he can get out in the first place. He needs us."

Sirius sighed. "Okay. Why the hell not, right? It's not like I was planning on doing anything with my future anyway."

James ignored him. "Wormy, run to the Hospital Wing and let Remus know we'll be there tonight."

Peter was pale, but he nodded. Sirius was already walking away.

"Where are you going?" James trotted to catch up.

"To the stash," he said coldly. "I'm going to need to be good and drunk for this. Especially if you're going to keep talking."

James' eyes narrowed. "Now's probably not the best time to pick a fight with me."

They turned onto the third floor corridor, which was largely disserted due to fact that it housed no classrooms currently.

"Of course," Sirius returned bitterly. "I forgot, everything must be done according to James' schedule."

James gritted his teeth. "Grow up."

Sirius tapped the one-eyed, humpbacked statue with his wand as though James hadn't spoken. Without even a care that he might be seen, Sirius climbed the old bat and dove in. Cursing, James followed, though more cautiously.

Sirius was waiting for him at the bottom of the slide, and took the opportunity to step on James on his way to the tunnel.

"Sorry," he said. "It's dark down here."

James snatched Sirius' leg, tripping him. He heard his friend pitch forward with a thud. James jumped to his feet, spitting the dirt from his mouth and drawing his wand.

"_Lumos_," he cast. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Me?" Sirius was on his feet now as well, taller than James and his eyes glittering dangerously in the light from James' wand. "Last I checked, I wasn't the prat here. I didn't disinvite me to Christmas. I'm not the one who asked for my help stealing a note at a New Year's party and then ignored my owls the next day."

James' jaw clamped shut. He hadn't answered because he hadn't known what to say. At the party, their differences and grievances had melted away, and it was easy to fall into their old friendship. Everything had been secondary to the direness of the note. But the reconciliation couldn't be that simple, because James had never said what needed to be said.

"And Lily. What the hell are you doing to Lily?" Sirius demanded.

At that, James' eyes narrowed. His relationship with Lily was none of Sirius' business. "What are you, her champion now?" he said harshly. "You're not her friend, you hypocrite."

"Of course I am."

"You hate her. You always have."

"That was before I knew how bloody brilliant she was," Sirius retorted. "I didn't know her."

James snorted unkindly. "You don't know her now."

"Better than you do," Sirius returned.

"Don't make hit you again."

"Try it," Sirius spat. "I'm ready this time." He illuminated his wand as well. He did it casually, but in the context of the moment it was clearly a threat. "'No Lily, James didn't fuck around on you. Yeah, he's being really mean, but ignore that. You slept with Sniv? That's really gross. Seriously, I'm vomiting on the inside. But James will get over it. He loves you. Really,'" he imitated himself doing a "sensitive" voice. "It's bollocks, Prongs. Bollocks! I'm pulling ropes of it out of my arse, making like I know it's all true. I don't! With my luck, I've been lying through my teeth trying to get her back with you. And it's not even my sodding job. It's yours, you git!"

James managed not to hit Sirius, but it was a close thing. "You want to talk about comforting people, lying, making excuses, when it's not your job? What about you and Remus?"

Sirius was taken aback by this, but no less angry. "What about me and Remus?"

"Don't pretend you don't know," James fairly growled.

With a roll of his eyes, Sirius turned on his heel and began striding down the tunnel. "Don't be a sore loser, Prongs," he tossed over his shoulder. "Bringing in stuff that has nothing to do with the row at hand is dirty, sloppy, lazy tactics. It's beneath you. You're in the wrong here. Admit it, apologize, and let's bloody well move on."

James, of course, was following during this speech, his knuckles growing white around his wand. "Stop it, Padfoot. Just stop it." James stomped a path around a large root. "I've been telling myself for a year and a half that you don't know, that you're not even aware of it, it's just your way. But I haven't been giving you enough credit."

"I could have told you that," Sirius said snidely. "But I haven't the foggiest what you're on about."

"Remus, Sirius. I'm talking about Remus."

"Damn it James, I told you, talk about what we're talking about."

"I am," James insisted. "I'm talking about why Remus lost it when you got the map confiscated, why I punched you in the changing rooms, why I had Remus and Peter over for Christmas instead of you—why I'm so bloody angry with you. _You_ keep bringing up Lily, but this has nothing to do with her. I'm talking about what we're talking about more than you are."

Sirius was blinking at him, standing in the doorway leading to the liquor stash. "Blimey, you mean it, don't you?"

James swallowed, a sense of deepest defeat washing over him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Padfoot, that I didn't have the balls to tell you this before now. I should have said it eighteen months ago."

In clear discomfort, Sirius shifted his weight and folded his arms. "Spit it out then."

"I kind of…hate you for the prank you tried to pull on Snape. For what it almost meant, what it almost cost us. For what it did to Remus."

Sirius looked like James _had_ punched him. Part of James wished that he could take it back, but it was too long unsaid, and keeping it buried had done far more harm than good.

"Well," Sirius said quietly after a moment. "Fuck me." The silence that followed stretched and stretched and, like a living thing, ached. Finally, he managed, "Do you all feel this way?"

"Well, Peter…" James let his shrug finish the sentence for him.

"But you and Moony have been furious with me for more than a year?"

James said nothing.

Sirius turned and entered the stash. A moment later, James heard a bottle smash against the wall of shelves. Tentatively, James approached and went in after him.

"Padfoot…" but he didn't get a chance to finish.

A voice behind him cried, "_Expelliarmus!_"

He felt his wand fly from his hand and back toward the tunnel. James had barely registered what was happening before the voice, and he recognized this time that it was a female voice, cast the spell again. Sirius' wand whizzed by James' ear.

James had just taken a step back toward the tunnel when a third spell was cast.

"_Reducto!_"

A torrent of earth knocked James to the floor, and the world caved in around him.


	19. Of Poisons and Transformations

**Author's Note:** This chapter is very late coming. More than a year for those of you who were following me on Checkmated, I know. The good news is that this particular tale is almost done. Only one more chapter to go (there will be 20 total). I want to thank everyone who has been so patient with me, those who have been so loyal to this story. Thank you, thank you all. I hope this newest installment does not disappoint.

* * *

**19**

**Of Poisons and Transformations**

Alida was perched in a window seat down the fourth floor corridor overlooking the green houses. Her knees were pulled close to her chest and she had been there for hours. She had chosen this seat because it gave her an unobstructed view of the commotion below; she would be able to verify with her own eyes that Keagan Cornfoot would never be able to do to another girl what he had done to Maggie. But rather than triumph, satisfaction, she felt only…nausea.

There had been so much blood. She'd known that there would be some, naturally, but she hadn't been prepared for the sheer volume. The red had been stark against the snow and clearly visible even from four stories up. Alida had thought that she would enjoy Cornfoot's pain, but the screams that the wind had carried up to her ears had only made her pull her knees closer.

It seemed she had not much cruelty or ruthlessness in her. The revenge, though perfect, ripe, she now wished had been left undone.

Worse, though she had been so certain beforehand that she had covered her tracks completely, now all she could think of were the little things she must have missed. She was as sure that she would be caught now as she had been that she wouldn't be only hours ago. The Ravenclaw in her had been so arrogant, so convinced that she was smarter than everyone else. But she didn't feel clever now. She felt like the child who had broken the antique vase and was waiting for her parents to find her hiding under the blankets.

Expulsion was a given. She would be unemployable in Britain for the rest of her life. That might be bearable if there wasn't the other, worse possible punishment: Azkaban. Did they send you to Azkaban for dismembering a rapist's genitals via carnivorous plant? Even if they didn't, her modus operandi, the love potion, was certainly frowned upon under Wizard Law. Maggie had been intoxicated when Cornfoot had violated her, so Alida had thought turning the tables on him gave the retribution a kind of poetry. Really though, it had just made her crime indisputably premeditated. The particular variation of the potion she had insisted upon also included the heart of a Crup puppy, which was not only a class two non-tradable substance, but the very thought made a hot lump rise in her throat.

Her father had bred Crups, years ago. As a child, they had terrified her. Looking back on it now, she realized that they may have had forked tails and vaguely demonic-looking eyes, but they were puppies just like any other: fiercely loyal, wanting nothing more than the approval and love of their master. That blind devotion and eagerness to please was what made their hearts so prized and so dangerous in love potions.

Perhaps Azkaban was just what she deserved.

A shiver wracked through her at the thought. Deserved or not, she would not go—she'd sooner die.

Hands trembling, she released her knees and unsteadily rose to her feet. The blood-stained snow was still there, but the scene was now long deserted. She swallowed heavily as she finally pulled her eyes away, and she turned to go.

Alida's flight was impeded, however, by a dark-haired figure who had been watching her. For how long, Alida couldn't guess, but she feared it had been long enough. When the lurker stepped forward, her heart nearly stopped. It was her cousin, Jillian Pucey.

Under scrutiny, Alida's hands trembled even more violently. She tucked the traitors into her pockets and out of sight, but Jillian was already looking at Alida as though she'd never seen her before—as though there was finally something she liked.

"It was you, wasn't it," she whispered in bemusement. "You drugged Cornfoot."

Alida did not answer, but she had never been much of a liar and she dreaded that the truth was written on her face.

"Who would have thought you had it in you?" Jillian smirked, and seeing Alida's apparent agitation, added, "They'll discover you, you know that, don't you?"

Yes, Alida did know that, now more than ever. If Jillian could see through her, how in the name of Merlin was she to survive questioning by Dumbledore, her parents, or the representatives from Magical Law Enforcement?

"What did he do?" Jillian asked, a little too much relish in the question for Alida's taste. When she again received no response, Jillian rolled her eyes in exasperation. "This has the stench of revenge all over it. It's obvious. I'm guessing from the organ involved, his crime was something sexual?"

Alida looked at her shoes.

Jillian sneered as she peered out the window at the bloody snow. "Good riddance then. Sometimes the law isn't enough. Some people get away with murder." Her knuckles were white. "I know all about revenge—taken a bit of my own today." She smiled at Alida thinly. "And I'm about as likely as you to be discovered."

Alida's heart was pounding loud in her ears; nothing Jillian was saying was helping at all.

"Unlike you, I had the foresight to plan an exit strategy. Azkaban isn't for me," Jillian announced airily. "I have family in Burgundy, and I'm going tonight." She turned from the window and looked back at Alida. "You can come with me if you like." She said it casually, but smugly. She was throwing her cousin a lifeline and knew it.

Alida, for her part, felt a kind of relief flood through her. Though she knew Jillian would hold it over her for years, she couldn't resist the offer of escape. She didn't have to face an interrogation, or punishment. She could simply…run away.

She let loose a kind of giddy sigh, and her tiny smile was a grateful one. At Jillian's expectant expression, words still eluded her, but Alida managed a nod.

* * *

Lily was pulling at a loose thread on her jumper sleeve both absently and fretfully in a chair by the fire in the Gryffindor common room waiting for James to return from fetching Sirius. Her heartbeat wouldn't slow down; she just kept mulling over the night to come. She felt as though the whole situation was an improperly brewed Pepperup Potion, primed to explode at any moment. So when there was a bang, a commotion, and shouting at the portrait hole, Lily startled with her whole body.

"What's going on out there?" she asked of a fourth-year.

"Some Slytherin git is trying to bully his way through the portrait hole. Says he wants to talk to his brother."

"His brother?"

"Yeah," the fourth-year said with distaste, "and Jessup is trying to tell him that Black isn't here."

There was a beat of silence. "The Slytherin is Regulus Black?"

The boy nodded.

Oh god, had it all gone to hell already? "I'll talk to him," she said.

Regulus was arguing with assorted Gryffindors and Lily waived them off. He was as lovely to look at as his brother, but he lacked Sirius' confidence and swagger completely—for better or for worse. Just now, he looked more fidgety than usual. His eyes were wide and wild.

"Where is my brother?" he demanded of her immediately.

Lily hadn't seen Sirius in more than four hours and she told Regulus so. That seemed to agitate him further.

"What about Potter?"

"James?" She felt her sense of dread rising. "Regulus, what's going on?"

From his robes the young man withdrew two wands. Lily recognized them instantly; her heart stopped beating for a moment. "Where did you get those?"

"Rosanna Yaxley found them buried in a woodpile to be burned in the Slytherin common room."

Lily snatched them from his hand, examining the wands as though there must be some mistake. They couldn't belong to James and Sirius, they just couldn't. But, of course, they did. These boys that she loved were out there, somewhere, without their wands. Defenseless.

"I'd know my own brother's wand anywhere, and…" he trailed off. "My girlfriend…." Regulus was silent for a moment, then straightened his spine and spoke with no small measure of defiance. "I loathe my brother, and he and Potter should pay for what they did to Dexter Pucey, but I find that I cannot sit idly by while they are murdered."

Lily made a squeaky chocking noise. "Murdered?"

Regulus appeared sick to his stomach as he confessed. "I-I don't have any evidence—besides the wands, I mean—but…I know Jill. I know that if she decided to go after them, she wouldn't do it half way."

It took a moment for the implications of that to register: James and Sirius may already be dead. Lily shook herself into action.

"We have to find them. We have to find them now!" She snatched Regulus' arm and dragged him through the portrait hole behind her. There was an outcry at the presence of a Slytherin, but she ignored it and headed straight for the spiral staircase leading up to the boys dormitories. Peter was their best bet.

The boy in question jumped and pulled his hand out of his trunk guiltily when the two of them burst in through the door.

"James and Sirius," Lily said without preamble, "do you know where they are?"

Peter looked uncomfortable at the question. "They…erm…."

"Pettigrew, this is important!" Regulus snapped.

Peter gulped and buckled under the pressure. "Sirius went to get Firewhiskey and James went with him."

"The liquor stash?" Lily clarified.

"How did you…?"

Lily cut him off. "Is there any way to know for certain—that they're there, I mean?"

He was still a little squirrely, but was beginning to catch the urgency and panic in the air. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes!" Lily barked.

"Are they in danger?"

Regulus joined this time. "Yes!"

Peter's hand went right back into his trunk. It rifled for a moment, then reemerged with a large rumpled parchment. He smoothed out the crinkles, then tapped it with his wand. Peter shot the two of them a sideways glance, then bent and whispered something they could not hear. Ink sprouted from the tip of Peter's wand, forming boxes that became rooms, lines that became stairs, and dots that were labeled as people.

Lily gasped.

"Does that show everything?" Regulus was staring, flabbergasted.

Peter gave a resigned sigh. "All of Hogwarts and everyone in it."

"And the grounds," Regulus added.

"The Forbidden Forest and Hogsmeade as well," Peter admitted. "It's nowhere near finished, but it will do for finding Prong—er, James and Sirius."

"This is dangerous," Lily whispered. Regulus reached for the map, and she slapped his hand away. "You included the secret passageways?"

But Peter was ahead of her, already following the tunnel from the humpbacked statue of Gunhilda Gorsemoor to the liquor stash with his finger. At the end of the trail was the welcome sight of two dots with the names beside them that Lily most longed to see.

"They're moving," Peter announced, excited. "That means they're alive. The dots wouldn't be moving if they were dead."

It grated on Lily's state of mind the way that Peter used the word "dead" in relation to James and Sirius, but the logic could not be faulted.

"We have to get down there," Lily's feet were itching to move.

"Wait," Peter said. "Something's different." He pointed to where the door to the stash should be; it was there no longer. The line that had replaced it was squiggly and haphazard, indicating perhaps…. "Rubble?" Peter ventured. "Did the tunnel collapse?"

"No." Regulus shook his head and spoke with certainty. "Jill."

"We have to get down there," Lily repeated. She sounded slightly hysterical even in her own ears.

Peter stuttered a bit, attempting to be comforting, but it was Regulus who responded to her suggestion.

"That's not a good idea. If the tunnel is caved in, it wouldn't be safe. Besides, I wouldn't put it past Jill to have booby trapped the way to deter rescue attempts."

Lily wanted to scream in frustration. She knew that she was being irrational, but she couldn't help herself. James was in danger, being reasonable would not come easily.

"What…what if," she took a breath, "we dug them out from above?" It was the best she could manage under the circumstances.

Regulus was shaking his head. "Then you run the risk of the roof collapsing in on them."

"Depends on how you dig," Lily argued. "Self-digging spades and a powerful Levitation Charm to keep the earth from falling through might do the trick."

"Sprout has self-digging spades in the shed outside greenhouse four, and I know the password phrase," Peter volunteered shakily.

"And I can do the Levitation Charm," Lily was quick to add.

Regulus looked doubtful; Levitation Charms were simple enough, but that much earth, heavy with clumps that could crumble unpredictably at any time, posed quite the challenge. Lily preempted his objection.

"I can handle it." She was adamant.

"Well," Peter said instead, "this is beginning to sound like a plan." He nudged Regulus conspiratorially, but the Slytherin wasn't paying attention. His eyes had found two more dots, these on the path to Hogsmeade station: Jillian Pucey and Alida Ackerley.

There was a tense silence. Regulus' lips were bloodless and his eyes were cold. Finally, he spoke. "You lot get the spades. I'm going after her."

Lily's pulse was pounding in her ears with rage, so she didn't immediately register his words. Alida. Lily had known that she didn't like the girl, but that was just good old-fashioned jealousy if she were honest. If Alida had never dated James, it was doubtful that Lily would have even known she existed. Still, Lily had never thought her evil. If anything happened to James, Lily would kill the girl with her bare hands.

"Wait!" Peter said as Regulus moved toward the door. "Take this," he was digging through the contents of a drawer in Sirius' bedside table. He withdrew a mirror and tossed it Regulus' way.

"What's this?" Regulus asked, catching it easily.

"It's one half of a two-way communication system." Peter was lifting Sirius' racing broom from its owner's trunk. "We'll nick James' mirror on our way down to the grounds. That way we'll be able to stay in contact. Who knows, we may need Jill's help getting them out, depending on what she's done."

Regulus nodded. "Brooms are a good idea. Probably the only way I can catch Jill. I'll get mine."

"So it _is_ a plan," Peter sounded a little too giddy considering the circumstances, but a plan it was.

* * *

When consciousness came, James couldn't breathe. That wasn't a thought, it was instinct—primal instinct. His limbs flailed as though he were drowning in water, but the earth was heavy, malevolent. He had to use all of his strength to make headway, and when air finally touched his face his chest burned with how welcome it was. He could taste the dirt in his mouth, in his lungs. He began to cough; it was full-bodied, painful, and continuous. His glasses fell off his face in the wracking and he couldn't even gather himself enough to feel around for them in the dark.

It felt as though he were trapped in the undertow of the ocean. He knew that here was no water, but the lack of air, the smothering dirt, was fueling a mindless fear the likes of which he had never experienced. Gasping for air, only to inhale more dirt. His heart was beating so loud and so hard his ribs hurt. He tried to scream, but the only sound that escaped him was the coughing.

"James?" he vaguely heard Sirius calling his name. He heard the voice getting closer by increments, there was also swearing, then he felt a hand on his back. It was a tentative touch that gave the impression that Sirius was feeling his way rather than seeing it. After a moment, he felt himself being lifted away from the rubble and carried further into the stash. Here James was able to draw cleaner breaths and the coughing finally began to subside.

He could feel Sirius beside him, but could not see him. And that was when a secondary panic set in. It was so dark, too dark. Even at night, on a new moon, it wasn't this dark.

"Sirius," he managed to croak between the hacking coughs. "I'm blind. I've gone blind!" There was hysteria in his voice.

"You're not blind. We're just caved in, that's all."

"My glasses," James said. "I lost them, somewhere over there."

Sirius was dismissive. "Well, we're not finding them now. Not like they would do you any good anyway."

But James disagreed. It may well be true that he wouldn't be able to see anything more with them, but the weight of his glasses on the bridge of his nose would be comforting. The pure blackness that surrounded him was eerie. It was not mixing well with his claustrophobia. Were they in the already cramped quarters of the liquor stash with just the door caved in? Or was it worse than that? What if there was only a tiny pocket of open space? What if they only had enough air for an hour or two?

"I want my glasses," he mumbled, but Sirius said nothing.

They sat in silence, side by side, for a moment while James finally mastered the coughing. He felt a row of shelves behind him, and he rested his weight against them. He closed his eyes and concentrated all of his energy toward slowing his heart rate. James and his mates had gotten into all kinds of scrapes—occupational hazard of being a Marauder—and in that time James had learned that whether an invisible Tebo herd is stampeding toward you, or a goblin has you at sword point thanks to a misunderstanding over a few missing coins, panic helps nothing. If he and Sirius were going to live to add this to their many tales, he would have to fight his fear and think.

"You okay, mate?" Sirius asked.

James nodded before he remembered that Sirius would not be able to see him either. "Will be."

"The fuck was that?"

"One of your jilted birds, probably." James was still coughing here and there. The dirt was in his lungs all right.

Sirius had been further away from the doorway when the tunnel had caved in, so he was in better shape. "Sod off. You've just as many ex-girlfriends as I do."

James closed his eyes and pictured the vibrant red hair he associated with the only girlfriend who had ever mattered. He longed for her, but she seemed very far away. He swallowed. The walls, though he couldn't see them, were pressing inward. "How fucked are we?"

"Not terribly," Sirius said, and James could hear the false bravado in his friend's voice. "Wormy knows where we are."

That was true at least. Still, James couldn't stop his skin crawling. He _really_ disliked closed spaces.

"Anything we might use to dig?" There was an edge in his voice denoting his eagerness to escape.

"Broken bottles, maybe," Sirius ventured. "Of course, we can't see fuck all."

"We can't just sit here," James snapped.

Silence followed that outburst. When Sirius spoke, his tone was clearly meant to calm. "James, we have to be careful. We're lucky the whole room didn't cave in. Wormtail will come through."

James knew that Sirius was just trying to be helpful, but his every nerve was firing and he didn't like being spoken to like a child. "Then what do you suppose we do?"

He heard the scrape of a bottle being removed from the shelf behind them, then some swearing as Sirius worked the cork with his fingernails. Eventually, he felt the opening of a bottle poking him in the face.

"No," he said flatly. He knew that the alcohol would lessen his anxiety, his fear. But he wanted to be sharp, alert for when the rescue came.

Sirius sighed and James could hear the frustration in it. Then there was the sound of sloshing liquid as Sirius took a swig for himself.

"Damn it," he growled.

"What?" James asked alarmed.

"It's not Firewhiskey. It's that elderflower wine that Moony likes so much."

"Really glad I didn't take some then."

"It's like piss in my mouth. Somehow it tastes even worse than I remember."

"Serves you right," James said before considering his words.

Sirius made a rude noise. "Nice, Prongs. We're trapped and dying, but you still need to win the argument. Well, congratulations: I yield. I'm the bastard, you win. Happy now?"

James felt blood rising in his face, not of anger, but of shame. Why couldn't he just leave the scab alone, let it heal? "I didn't mean to—"

"Well, you did. And you always do."

He didn't care for Sirius' tone. "Ever consider that what I want isn't to win. Maybe I want an apology."

"An apology is winning."

James made a noise of aggravation. "We're mates, Padfoot. This isn't a bloody competition."

Sirius scoffed. "Our friendship has always been a competition. And you win everything, you have everything. You have the parents, you have the home, loyal mates who take your part in a fight, and a girl who loves you. You have the Head Boy badge, you have the Quidditch captaincy, you're a sodding role model. I'm just the fuck up, and I got shit."

"Now you're being ridiculous."

"Am I?" Sirius demanded. "Everything I've done, you've done too. And yet, I'm the pariah and you're the hero. Fucked up world we live in, I'm telling you."

James was really beginning to lose his temper now. "I've taken lumps, and I've eaten plenty of crow. Have you ever had Dumbledore chastise you for having sex in the library? Because I can tell you it was one of the lowest points of my life."

"Oh, I see," Sirius' voice had taken on an odd gravelly quality. "So you do know what it's like to be abandoned. I had no idea."

"We didn't abandon you Sirius. Remus is _hurt_. All he needs hear is that you're sorry."

Sirius didn't answer immediately. His breathing, it seemed to James' ear, had become a bit labored. "Well Moony can suck my…."

"Sirius?" James asked, a little dismayed when his friend did not finish his sentence. He heard the bottle Sirius had been holding hit the ground and roll away.

"James," he said after the silence had stretched for nearly a minute. "Something's wrong. I can't feel my fingers."

* * *

Severus had been tearing through the Slytherin dormitories and common room for the better part of ten minutes looking for Regulus Black. He had managed to convince Slughorn that he had told no one the password, and that whomever had broken in had done so by spying on Severus when he had supplied the password upon entry. That was a dicey enough business on its own, but he was certain that his story would not survive a second round of questioning, especially by Dumbledore. Slughorn liked Severus, was naturally a trusting and unsuspicious person, and thus had been inclined toward believing whatever farcical nonsense came out of his mouth. Dumbledore not only knew of the Dark Mark Severus had taken, but was also an accomplished Legilimens. Severus very much needed to interrogate his younger housemate; the depth of the damage must be assessed so that he may know how to proceed.

No one had seen either Regulus or Jill in some time, and that pointed to unholy alliance of stupidity that would land Severus in Azkaban for certain.

Severus cursed and pushed a first year out of her chair. He tossed her History of Magic essay to the floor after her, dipped her quill in the inkwell and began scrawling a frantic letter to Lucius Malfoy on a blank roll of parchment, ignoring the tears of the little girl to his left. He was just finishing the communication when Regulus Black entered the common room.

Regulus headed toward the corridor leading to the boys' dormitories without hesitation. Severus stuffed his hastily written letter into his pocket and followed. When he entered the room where the fifth year boys slept, he saw Regulus withdrawing a long, thin, polished case from beneath his bed. When he snapped the latches open, a handsome racing broom was revealed.

Severus closed the dormitory door none to gently behind him, gaining the attention of his younger, would-be accomplice.

When Regulus saw him standing there, he immediately drew his wand.

Severus was too quick for him. "_Expelliarmus!_"

His wand flew to Severus' outstretched hand easily, but Regulus' jaw was set at a decidedly mutinous angle.

"I can't do it," he announced.

"Can't do what?" Severus asked, his voice cold, as he tossed a hefty locking charm at the door behind him. Regulus would be going nowhere and they would not be interrupted.

The younger boy swallowed visibly in his nervousness. "My brother. I hate him, but I can kill him."

This was new. "No one is asking you to."

"Our orders are to eliminate him and Potter, you said so yourself."

Severus was so surprised and confused by his words that it took him a moment to recall the incident to which Regulus must be referring. "I said so to Jill, to keep her muzzled. Attacking Potter and Black would draw unnecessary attention. Our mission is too delicate to withstand that kind of scrutiny."

Regulus looked genuinely gobsmacked. "Then we don't have to…?"

Oh for Merlin's sake. "Regulus, you know what our orders are; you were there when we received them. You know how important our mission is, which is why I'm baffled that you would share the password to my dungeon workshop with anyone."

"Jill," Regulus breathed, his eyes going wide. "Did she tamper with the Dark Lord's potion?"

Severus gritted his teeth. "No, but she did steal two cauldrons worth of poison."

"Oh God. What would she want with that?"

"She's _your_ girlfriend!"

Regulus rubbed his face with his hands. When his features emerged again there was more conviction there than Severus had ever seen before. "Not anymore."

What followed was a hurried account of a conversation Regulus had been party to up in Gryffindor Tower.

"I'm not certain saving Potter and Black should be our first priority," Severus said with a sneer when Regulus had finished. "The poison and its whereabouts seems a more pressing issue."

"That's why I'm going after Jill." He lifted his broom from the case. "I'll bring her back, and then she'll talk."

"Alone?" Severus raised a brow.

"You don't think I can handle her?"

"In a duel? No." Severus was turning over the solutions in his mind, carefully weighing each one. He didn't like what he was thinking, but it might be their best option. "Take Lestrange and Rosier with you," he said finally. "They're in the common room by the fire."

Regulus made a face. "They won't help us."

"They will if you tell them she put the Dark Lord's mission at risk. You don't even want to know what those flesh-eating slugs would be willing to do to get Marks."

Regulus swallowed and seemed to be gathering himself. "You're not coming?"

"Me? No. I'll be off to Slughorn. I'm going to get the blame and attention shifted away from me as quickly as possible and it seems this situation with Jillian and her ill-conceived revenge is just the thing. All Dumbledore will be able to think of is saving his little Gryffindors, and that will give me time to destroy all evidence of the Dark Lord's potion. Once that's taken care of, I'm going to be brewing as much antidote as I can manage. We may need it." He didn't mention that it would be days before a proper antidote for either Hebenon or Thalot could be ready. Both poisons were immune to the bezoar's special properties—that was the whole point. If things went very bad indeed, Severus' Potions Master project might be put to the test in a manner he never considered.

* * *

Peter was whispering to the shed housing the supplies for greenhouse four behind her. Lily wanted to snap that she wasn't interested in the damned password, but she was trying not to take her fear out on him.

Her hands were trembling in their grip on James' broom. She'd had to concede that Peter was right: flying was the fastest way by far to reach the site where they would be digging. Tossing the brooms down to James and Sirius was also the best way to get them out of the hole once the digging was finished. But Lily had not ridden a broom since her mandatory lessons first year. James' Nimbus had no training charms or safety features—those would only interfere with game play. Still, her jaw was clenched with determination. This was _for_ James, to save him, and thus she would do anything required. Anything.

Peter passed her a spade that was digging at the air, and then wordlessly swung his leg over Sirius' broom.

Lily loosed an uneasy, uneven breath, and followed his example. This was it.

James had offered to take Lily up with him on his broom for a fly on multiple occasions. Why oh why had she declined? Her brain was frantically turning over all the fundamentals of flying she could remember from the very basic lessons with McNamara. _Lean forward to accelerate, steer with your foremost hand, to slow down…_

"Are you all right, Lily?" Peter asked. If his voice were any indication, her face was very green indeed.

Lily nodded vigorously, but it was only because she didn't trust her voice. She tucked the bucking spade under her arm, and kicked off from the ground before she could over think what she was about to do.

* * *

Alida was having a difficult time keeping her trunk, charmed as it was to float behind her, from bumping in to trees. Jillian was snickering as she struggled, and Alida found herself unable to stop her flush of embarrassment.

The two of them were moving quietly through the dark, headed toward Hogsmeade station, and they were nearly there. They were in the cover of the forest so that it would be easy to hide if someone should come looking, but they could still see the road through the trees and undergrowth.

They began to climb the final hill. "Won't be long now," Jill said with a smirk.

No, it wouldn't. As soon as they reached the train platform they would be outside the range of the wards and they would be able to Apparate. Freedom was just over this hill. Alida remembered a sweet little trip she had taken as a girl to visit some family in Calais. Perhaps she would Apparate there instead of going with Jill. It was certainly a more pleasant plan than her current course.

Jillian heard it first; Alida was too focused on her footing in the climb, and though she had wordlessly submitted to the precautions her cousin had insisted they take, she had not actually thought anyone would come after them so soon and thus was not listening for followers. Jill halted and whipped her wand out of her pocket. There was a shout from behind, but Jill was ready for it.

"_Protego!_" the Slytherin girl cried.

Alida yelped as the shield surrounded them both. She lost her footing and started to slide down the hill. Fortunately, Jill's shield charm would not allow her to slide out of its dome of protectiveness and Alida did not slip far.

Out of the darkness and into the moonlight came three figures, each much larger than either girl. Alida scampered with fright behind Jillian. When she peeked around the girl's frame, she was able to discern the Hogwarts robes and masculine frames.

"You're not leaving, Jill." It took Alida a moment to recognize the voice as belonging to Regulus Black.

"Of course I am." Jillian seemed unruffled.

And Regulus, who had always cowed before Jill's forcefulness, seemed just as calm, just as determined. "There are three of us, two of you." He stepped into a patch of light, receiving the total benefit of the full moon. Alida saw his face; it showed no weakness, no affection for his girlfriend.

"I'm not scared of you or your lackeys."

"Then you should be scared of the Dark Lord," Regulus said, and Alida gulped at his mention.

Jill laughed, but it was an ugly, bitter sound. "He'd be the first to thank me for what I have done tonight."

But Regulus was shaking his head. "Murder is one thing, messy murder that draws unwanted attention is another. Your little revenge has endangered an important mission five months in the making."

"Unlike you, my priorities are my own. I didn't swear fealty to some self-styled revolutionary. Dexter's life was not an acceptable price to pay for the cause. I _needed_ this, Regulus." Alida was surprised at what she heard in her cousin's voice. It was almost as though she were pleading. "Why can you understand?"

At that Regulus got an odd look on his face, one that suggested there was something particularly offensive and absurd about her question. When he spoke, his voice was harsh with anger. "He's my brother, Jill."

"And he killed mine!"

Regulus sighed. "Sirius and Potter stole a note and handed it over to corrupt government authorities. That's all. Their part in your brother's death is tangential at best. Really, their greatest crime is fighting for the wrong side. Killing them doesn't set things right."

It took Alida a moment to fully absorb those words. Jill…had killed _James_. James her ex-boyfriend, her first love; James who made her laugh despite herself, whose radical politics had made her question her whole life, who hadn't cheated on her, who had always been so kind, so gentle with her.

Alida took a step back away from Jillian, eyeing her like she was recognizing the full body of a monster she had heretofore only seen from the neck up. She had known Jill to be spiteful and vindictive, shrewish even. Even so, the world Alida inhabited was full of gray rather black and white. This civil war mess was a perfect example: she could understand both sides. The morals and actions of this faction and that were not hers to judge. But this was different; it was close to home. Alida might not have a defined opinion about who should win the war, but she certainly had an opinion when it came to people she cared about being hurt. She had a word for people like Keagan Cornfoot and Jillian Pucey: evil.

Jill had been shrieking something down at Regulus from the safety of her shield charm, but Alida had missed it all. Regulus, it seemed, had given up entirely on that line of reasoning. He changed to a new topic entirely.

"What did you do with the poison, Jill? Where is it?"

Jill tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The poison you stole from Severus," he clarified through clenched teeth. "Did you take it to the kitchens? What was the plan? Poison the whole school and slip away in the confusion."

Jill guffawed. "You're so stupid, Regulus. I wouldn't just poison random people. It was all for Sirius Black and James Potter."

"You took two whole cauldrons full."

She shrugged. "There were a lot of bottles of liquor to choose from in your brother's liquor stash and I'm impatient. I wanted to be sure it wouldn't matter which one he and Potter picked."

It was too much. Fury, rage, surged from somewhere deep within Alida and broke the surface. With a scream like a battle cry, she ran forward and pushed Jill with all her might. The dark haired girl dropped her wand and the shield charm went down with it. Jillian tumbled violently down the hill, hitting two trees on her way with snapping sounds like bones breaking rending the air, and coming to a stop finally at the bottom of the hill at Regulus' feet.

Regulus' two companions rushed forward into the light and Alida saw that they were Rabastan Lestrange and Evan Rosier. They were checking Jill's body for a pulse. Regulus was staring at Alida in shock. Clearly he had completely discounted her. He hadn't spoken to her at all, even though he had certainly known that she was there.

Their eyes were locked on one another for several long moments. There was a question in his gaze. Would she run? Alida didn't know her own mind. It changed back and forth from one second to the next. She still didn't want to face her parents, Dumbledore; she still couldn't take Azkaban.

And yet, she moved toward the Slytherin boys, toward Hogwarts, her trunk following lazily behind her. She was not going to run.

* * *

James was removing his robes and jumper and wrapping both around Sirius, who was shivering. He had just finished hunting in the dark for his glasses and had retrieved them. Though they made no difference in his ability to see, he felt better with their pressure against his nose. He was panicking, he could freely admit that, and he couldn't stop moving even though there was nothing to do and nowhere to go. He kept muttering swear words and running his hand through his hair. After rolling up his shirtsleeves to his elbows, he felt Sirius' forehead once more. It was still chilly.

"Fuck," he said for perhaps the hundredth time. It was making him crazy, not being able to see. And the bloody walls were _everywhere_, and far too close in the dark. "Why didn't we put some fucking torches down here?"

"Because we've always had our wands." Sirius' teeth chattered as he spoke and his voice sounded slightly wet.

James moved his hand to feel the temperature of Sirius' cheek, but pulled away quickly when he felt something dribbling from the side of his friend's mouth. Wiping his hand on his trousers, James blurted, "What was that?"

"Blood I think," Sirius answered. "It tastes like blood."

James huffed and wheezed a bit in his breathing, his heart rate skyrocketing. Their proximity was too close to hide his distress from Sirius.

"James, you have to calm down."

James made a noise of disbelief. "You've been poisoned Sirius, how the fuck am I supposed to calm down?"

They had investigated the bottle of elderflower wine, and it had smelled off enough for James to suspect it the cause of Sirius' current state.

"Exactly. I'm goddamned dying, Prongs. If anyone gets to overreact, it's me."

That was the most ridiculous thing James had ever heard and he was about to tell him so when Sirius' hand found his. It was cold and clammy, and it clutched his with desperation. Somehow, the evidence of Sirius' extreme fear was helpful in James controlling his. After a moment, James squeezed back.

The two of them sat there in the dark, in the quiet, for some time. The earth was still heavy in the air, and the only sound James could hear was his own heartbeat, now slower. After a time, he noted with some surprise that he was crying.

"I know…that sometimes I was a crap mate," came Sirius' voice. James started to protest, but Sirius would have none of that. "Don't interrupt. I know that I've fucked up, sometimes bad. But what I want say is that…you, Remus, and Peter…." Sirius, it seemed, could not bring himself to articulate what he must have known James understood. He coughed a bit, then continued. "Can…can you tell Moony and Wormy for me? It's important to me that they know."

James knew that Sirius wouldn't be able to see if he nodded, and he didn't trust his voice not to betray his now heavy tears, so he just squeezed his friend's hand again.

* * *

Lily's wand was trembling in her hand, but she was still managing her task. Rather than try to hold up all of the earth at once, she was moving it to the side in a big pile and then going back for more. It was slow going, even with the self-digging spades because the ground was frozen. Lily was frozen. There wasn't much by way of breeze; they were too deep in the forest for that. Still, her skin was chapping and the insides of her ears were aching from the exposure. The snow was up to her calves in the little clearing where they worked, and she had not thought to bring her cloak in her haste, but she barely noticed.

Under normal circumstances, Lily might have been worried about the myriad of hostile creatures to be found in the Forbidden Forest, but tonight the woods were silent and she too focused.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," she said aloud. She didn't trust herself to cast non-verbally in her current emotional state.

"Are you all right, Lily?"

"I'm fine, Peter." It was difficult not to snap at him; of course she wasn't fine, James and Sirius were trapped, and this was the third time he had asked. There was a part of Lily that wanted to tell Peter to go sit still on the other side of the clearing while she was working, but she was saved from that temptation by Regulus calling for them over the mirror.

His voice sounded somehow hollow. "I have Jill and Alida. We're bringing them back to Hogwarts."

"Good," Lily said. "If James has so much as a scratch on him, I'll kill her."

To that Regulus was silent.

"Did she leave any booby traps we need to know about?" Peter asked fearfully.

"I don't think so." Regulus took a bracing breath and then said, "She may have poisoned them though."

The earth Lily had been levitating flopped to the ground shy of her pile. "What?"

"Listen," he said, "I'll bring teachers and antidote out there as soon as I can, I just thought I should warn you."

"What kind of poison?" Lily demanded.

But Regulus only repeated himself. "I'll bring antidote. Just dig them out."

Peter's eyes were apprehensive when he replaced the mirror in his pocket. "What do you suppose he meant by that?"

He meant that the poison was nasty. He meant that James and Sirius may already be dead, or well on their way. Lily didn't answer Peter, but found she was now fighting tears.

"Goddamn it," she growled. "Why won't these bloody things dig faster!" She was losing her grip completely and could hear it in her voice.

The hole was already so deep that she could not see the bottom, but James still seemed a world away to her. She had just won him back, it would be so unfair if he were taken from her now.

"Stand back," Peter said after a time. He sounded nervous and unsure of himself.

Lily hesitated, then obliged. Peter stepped up to the edge of the hole, pointed his wand toward the bottom, and his face strained with concentration. All at once there was a bang that made Lily jump nearly out of her skin, and Peter was knocked backward and off his feet. Dirt leapt into the air from the pit, arced like a geyser, and cascaded down to the ground around the hole like heavy rain. It continued for more than a minute and Lily felt the ground shake beneath her as the blast reverberated like an echo, each bang slightly less powerful than the one that came before.

She made her way over to Peter, who was fast finding himself covered. She helped him to his feet.

"What was that?" she asked once it stopped.

Peter was dusting himself and snorting dirt out of his nostrils. "A spell Sirius taught me a long time ago. I wasn't sure it was going to work—or if I was even doing it right."

Lily peered over the edge. She couldn't see a difference, because it was simply too dark, but she needed to assess their progress. She walked over to a nearby tree and snapped off the ends of a few branches. She charmed each one to glow brightly then walked around the hole, dropping in each in turn.

She and Peter assessed the hole again. "That's so deep," he said in awe. "We've got to be getting close." He withdrew his map from his pocket and Lily was impressed to see that it had changed to reflect the digging they had done. Lily could see they had only about thirty more feet until they reached the room where the boys were trapped.

Her excitement was palpable. "Do it again."

Peter got a determined set to his jaw and he nodded. This time they were both braced for the noise and the impact, but it still knocked Peter backward, this time onto his rump. He and Lily smiled at each other when the storm of earth was done. They were making real progress quickly now. But then they both froze completely. A sound came to them through the forest, rending the air and leaving fear in its wake: a wolf's howl.

"Remus," Lily breathed.

Peter looked alarmed that Lily knew this secret but didn't comment on that, only confirmed her deduction. "That's his howl for certain. He was waiting for us—I didn't have time to tell him we wouldn't be coming. He's loose."

"What do we do?" she asked.

The smaller boy's eyes met hers. He was clearly as spooked as she, but she also saw that he was gaining courage as he took in her fear. He attempted to speak calmly, but his voice still broke once or twice. "The sound of that blast will have captured his attention, and as he's a werewolf it will draw him rather than scare him off. Once he catches our scent, he'll come in for the kill. We need to get James and Sirius out of this hole—they can subdue him. They do it every full moon."

"What about you?" Lily asked.

Peter gave a pitiful shrug as he deflated a little. "I can't do what they can do. I can't fight him."

"What can you do?" She said it with curiosity. All day, from her talk with James in the broom cupboard to now, she had begun to suspect that there was something big she didn't know. What was it these boys did on full moons exactly?

"I can't protect you," Peter said simply. "But I can protect myself." He looked around the clearing, then pointed to a tree with branches high off the ground that were thick and strong. "I'll help you up into that tree, and then I'll keep digging."

Lily hated that plan for several reasons: the height of her sanctuary from the ground when she was still reeling from her flight over on the racing broom; that fact that she wouldn't be actively participating in digging James and Sirius anymore; that she, a Gryffindor, would be hiding from a threat rather than finding a way to face it. Still, she had to concede that Peter's plan was probably the best. He had experience with the werewolf in question, and thus far more experience than Lily with werewolves in general. Who was she to question what he said would be safest?

"Okay," she accepted after a moment.

Despite his slightly doughy appearance, Peter proved really quite strong and he gave her a boost to the lowest tree branch easily.

"Don't stay there," Peter warned anxiously. "It's too low and he might be able to reach you. Climb higher."

Lily gulped, but followed his instruction. She was only able to do so by not looking down. The bark beneath her hands was freezing cold and covered in snow, but she ignored the sting. Once she settled into a perch she was breathing so hard she was nearly hyperventilating, and her shaky hand drew her wand so that it was at the ready.

Peter had taken out the map again. He was unfolding it completely rather than just looking at the section of Forbidden Forest where they were. After a moment, Lily realized he must be using it to watch for Remus' approach. He cast his mining spell one more time and this time the explosion was bigger than the previous two. The self-digging spades sailed out of the hole, one of them snapped in half; then, as the booming reverberated, liquor bottles followed. They had reached the stash.

Peter called down the hole, and a voice answered. It was too far away for Lily to tell which boy it was, but she was so thrilled to hear it, she was choking back tears of relief.

That was a short-lived sense of triumph, however, because Peter squeaked when he caught sight of the map. He just managed to chuck the racing brooms into the hole before a werewolf charged into the clearing. Lily was expecting Peter to cast a secret spell of some kind, but her heart stopped when he simply dropped his wand. A scream was building in her throat, but when the wolf reached the boy, he was gone. Lily couldn't see from her vantage point what happened, but Peter had somehow vanished.

The werewolf skidded in circle to cull his momentum and sniffed the ground where Peter had been moments ago. Lily knew she should use her wand to cast something—anything, but she found herself unable to move.

The wolf was enormous, far larger than she had been expecting. The gray fur was scraggly looking, projecting a meanness and a wildness. She hadn't anticipated the muscles to be so large and obvious, definition showing through the skin and patchy fur as he walked. He was growling to himself almost absently as he sniffed. He quickly lost interest in searching for Peter when he caught the other scent in the clearing. Even though Lily had known that it was coming, she still was not prepared when the wolf's yellow eyes found her. There was something scary in a deeply primal way about a wild animal looking at you as if you were food. It was hard to remember that gentle Remus Lupin was buried deep in there. She could feel the violence on her skin even though he was still across the clearing, and Lily had a clear picture of what the animal meant to do with her before it even began to move toward her.

Remus charged. Lily braced herself, but still screamed when the werewolf slammed against the tree and attempted to climb. The barking and snarling created a pit of terror in her stomach. The beast got closer, so much closer to her than she had ever dreamed when she had first climbed. She had thought herself well beyond the reach of anything on the ground, but the hot, hungry wolf breath tickled her leg. She squirmed reflexively, clawing at the tree branches above her, scrambling to escape, and almost fell in the process. A sob wracked its way out of her throat when she lost her grip on her wand and she saw it float to the ground. For a moment she just stared down at it, only a glimpse of the wooden point visible above the snow it had fallen into. There it lay, her only weapon, her only hope.

A sharp whistle startled both Lily and the werewolf, and they turned their attention to the source.

James and Sirius had flown their way out of the pit and were dismounting their brooms. James looked filthy, but fierce and gloriously alive. Sirius was pale, even in the moonlight, and Lily struggled for breath at the sight of the glistening red blood dribbling from his mouth.

The werewolf was having an altogether different reaction to that blood.

"Can you shift?" Lily heard James ask Sirius without taking his eyes off Remus.

Sirius managed a weak half-smirk. "Yeah."

"Then do it."

Lily gazed in half horror, half wonder as the figures of her love and his friend melted away before her eyes. James' glasses tumbled from his face as his body twisted and reshaped; Sirius had been leaning his weight on his broom like a walking stick, but it fell to the side when the transformation began. It only lasted for a moment, but it seemed to Lily a long one given that she had not breathed in the duration. In place of James and Sirius stood a stag and a massive, albeit wheezing, black dog.

It may have been Lily's imagination, but it seemed to her that the werewolf recognized these two animals and was not happy to see them under the circumstances. The wolf took a defensive posture in front of Lily's tree, as though claiming her his prey that would not be shared.

James and Sirius each circled toward the werewolf from opposite sides of the hole; the stag approached on the right, head lowered and antlers pointed toward the threat, the dog on the left. But that was where the strategy fell apart completely. Sirius was not up for this confrontation, and he swayed on his feet before collapsing into the snow.

The werewolf took advantage of the opening and James' hesitation, and went after the easy kill the dog presented. Sirius tried to scramble back to his feet, but simply collapsed. Lily screamed when the wolf pounced and dug his teeth into the dog's neck. Sirius let loose the most pitiful whine she had ever heard, but was unable to free his flesh from his attacker's jaws.

James was there in an instant, and he stomped his hooves on the werewolf's head. That earned him a roar of rage as the werewolf launched at him instead. James was a heavy animal at the moment, but so was Remus, and the werewolf knocked the stag off its feet. The wolf tried to get his teeth into the stag's flesh, but James twisted and wheeled to escape. Grunting and snorting, the stag clambered to its feet whilst backing away. Lily's heart was pounding in her ears; he was backing away toward the edge of the pit leading down to the liquor stash.

A yell of warning got caught in her throat when the werewolf charged at James. James was ready for him; his antlers lowered, he gored the body of his attacker, and with a pivot and a toss of his head, the werewolf was pitched into the pit.

Lily screamed. She couldn't help it. That hole was at least a mile deep, and noise like a kicked puppy was sharp on her ears moments later when he hit the ground.


End file.
